Her Game of War
by MasterAssassinMoon
Summary: Four years have passed since Catherine Cormac left the Colonies to undertake her training as an Assassin. Now she wishes to return to help fix the problems of her home. She gets swept into the American Revolution with her own ambitions to fight for ones without a voice. Though in the growing in shadows is another force she had not dealt with before, more dangerous than the Templars
1. Time Passed

**HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY GUYS!**

**I WANNA SAY THANKS FOR PUSHING ON TO READ CATHERINE'S STORY. I WILL WRITE UP A SUMMARY OF WHAT HAPPEN IN THE LAST BOOK, BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS SECTION OF CATHERINE'S STORY. **

**I am excited about this because it will be dividing into the American Revolution, I have so much plan for this! Gah. ENJOY GUYS! **

**-Moon**

**Also, side note. I am sorry about the weird update! I uploaded the wrong doc!**

* * *

Haytham Kenway knew not the struggles of being a parent. He'd watch Shay dote on his toddler. He could still remember meeting Mrs. Cormac in the parlor of the New York headquarters. The mother was in rough shape, her left eye was bruised with a split lip. She was sitting on a settee with her child in her lap, playing with a toy lamb in her arms.

There was a time where he had met this woman a few years back, it involved memories that he did not wish to revisit. He never received the woman's full name, but he assumed that her first name was Rose.

He never realized who this woman was until he saw the pooling brown eyes of the toddler. Recognizing the shape and color, Haytham knew he was standing before Shay's small family. When Shay had made his way back into the Templar headquarters, he embraced his wife. His daughter fell into his arms at the sight of him. They listen to Rose's story of how after Shay left.

Before Shay had dropped in a weekend visit with his wife. His brother-in-law showed up threatening his younger sister by taking away his niece. Rose hid the fact from her husband, hoping there wouldn't be eyes on her house.

The woman was wrong. In the midst of the night while Rose was asleep with her daughter in the same bed. She explained that she heard a crash, a few men in the cloak of darkness, roughed her up and tried to snatch her daughter. Using her skills as a trained Assassin, she fought them off to give herself time to escape.

Shay held his wife in his arms as she sobbed in his arms. They were sobs of relief from the stress she endured.

Haytham stepped up to promise that the woman would be safe with her child in the confines of the headquarters.

Haytham thought it was the last of it until a sickness had hit young Catherine. He had been the one to witnessed her collapse.

Haytham dreaded being alone with the young child. The Grandmaster stepped out of his study to take a breath of fresh air. He had a book tucked under his arm to read in the walled garden, hoping for a moment to himself. Until he discovered the child wandering the halls alone. Haytham glanced around for the child's mother, wondering where Rose was.

He didn't feel right about leaving the toddler unattended. The man stepped up behind the young child. He paused, unsure of how to address the child. She turned around to face the Grandmaster, she smiled holding up a cookie that she was eating.

"Cookie?" She offered him breaking it in half, offering the other side that didn't have a bite in it.

He waved his hand away, "No." Haytham spread a smile across his lips. "What's the name of your friend?" On the table was a tiny wooden horse, he had assumed that the toy belonged to her.

"Apple, because of horses like apples." She said in a matter of a fact tone. "Papa bought it for me

Haytham broke a chuckle. "Of course. You're a smart girl." He put the toy back into her hand. "Where is your mother, might I ask?" He had sent out Shay on a mission to take care of a gang stronghold earlier in the day.

"Sleeping. She's tired from our trip..the bad men hurt her badly, but she beat them up."

Haytham hesitated before touching her shoulder, "Let's go find someone to watch you for a while. Your mother is exhausted."

She nodded before taking a bite out of her cookie. "Can't I stay with you until papa comes back?"

Haytham groans a little as he scratched the back of his neck. He couldn't use work as an excuse since he just stepped out of his study. The Grandmaster sighed, it wouldn't hurt that she was in the same place as him. It would be until he could pass her onto her father when he returned.

Haytham stood watching the girl turned away and started to take off running. He groaned internally but smiled. She was a charming girl he admitted. Haytham went to follow Catherine until he noticed the child went to a dead stop, trying to catch her breath.

"Catherine?" He voiced concern as he hurried over to the toddler. She dropped to her knees trying to catch her breath.

The grand master patted her back hard trying to break up the coughs, thinking she was chocking onto her cookie. Haytham felt fluster as he tried to open her airway. The coughing turned into dry heaves, Catherine retched up food from her stomach. Foam came bubbling out of her mouth, Haytham held the small child in her arms.

He picked up her in one swoop, a sicking thought popped into his head. Someone had poisoned a child.

Haytham yelled for help, hoping someone could hear him. He cursed for sending away Benjamin Church yesterday.

The last moments were in a frenzy with a servant running forward, he yelled at the poor woman to go fetch a doctor. He told another to fetch her mother as he picked up the child.

What Haytham suspected came to pass, Catherine Cormac had indeed been poison. Shay Cormac was in shock to come home to find his wife sobbing over the bedside of their daughter. The Grandmaster of the Colonial rite approached him to try to find a solution.

Shay knew the culprit of such a tacit but was surprised that they stooped to poison a child. Shay gave a promising kiss to his wife that their only child would be well before she succumbed to her illness.

The two men storm Hope Jensen's manor in New York. The information they had gathered pointed the Templars to the direction of her. Haytham reassured that Shay would focus on finding the antidote to the poison. Shay went after Hope in agreement since it was believed that Hope was in possession of the artifact.

In the end, Haytham had found it in the west wing of the expensive mansion. It was in a smaller lab near Hope's private study. The small vile was amongst journals and herbs. A letter of evidence pointed out that Hope had been the one to hatch the plan of killing the toddler and mother.

The Grandmaster snatched the vile and raced out of the manor, hoping Shay would be along within the hour. Excitement had exploded in front of the manor between the British soldiers and Hope's gang members. Haytham guarded himself against any attack as he raced through the night back to Fort Arsenal.

To Haytham's relief, the little girl shed hallow breaths as her mother laid in bed next to her. Quiet prayers of hope escaped the mother's lips as she awaited the return of her husband and Haytham. She sat up to see the man standing the threshold of the room.

"Do you have it?" Rose gasped clutching the front of her shirt.

Haytham produced the vile in front of the mother. "I do." He whisked across the room to give it to the child. "Tilt her head back." He popped the cork as Rose held her child's head back, opening her lips a little. The Grandmaster pushed the vile to the child's pale lips, watching the liquid pour down her throat.

Rose pet her child's hair. "Who did this?"

"Hope Jensen."

Rose didn't look phased by this set of information, but outraged. "Why?"

Haytham reached into his pocket to pull out the evidence. "It seems your brother arranged it."

Rose took the letter away from him to read it with her own eyes.

She stood there frozen, nothing but tears filled her eyes. "My brother wants me dead along with my child. Just because I choose my husband over my loyalties. I understand my own death, but a child...his own blood." Rose glanced at the child, her breathing picked back to normal. "You saved my daughter's life. I never trusted the lot of you, I will probably never will, but thank you."

Haytham nodded, "your welcome." He understood her hesitation towards him and the other Templars. "I am surprised though that you have chosen your husband over your brother."

She was once an assassin, after all, he didn't trust her either, but she was Shay's wife. Rose knew very well what could have happened if she showed up in different circumstances. She risked her own life for the sake of her child.

"My brother isn't the person I knew growing up. I made a vow to my husband in front of God to stand by him. When I thought Shay had died, my world shattered. I watch them shoot him cold blood because he spoke out against Achilles. I watched him fall to the icy waters below, I was still pregnant with Catherine when I saw it." Rose looked upon her sleeping daughter whose skin was turning back to its normal shade. "They are both resilient."

The Grandmaster listens to the words that Mrs. Cormac spoke. The words ranged true for herself.

"Father like daughter." Haytham hummed looking at the child. He had to admit that she was a strong one. He was impressed that Catherine Cormac survived such a deadly poison. Deep down inside something nagged him that he would regret saving the girl's life.

Haytham twirled the small wooden horse in his hand. He snapped back from the small flashback of his past encounter with Catherine. The Grandmaster had been searching through his desk for a fresh quill when he found the small toy. The young child had left it behind as a gift for Haytham. He could remember how she smiled as she whispered thank you to the man and placed the toy into his hand.

It had been 3 and a half years since the death of Catherine Cormac. Even with the note from Catherine, he suspected that she was dead. No one could be sure who delivered the fake precursor box along with the note. Haytham had shared the note with Lee to make sense of it, nothing phased him when it was brought to his attention. Haytham decided to withhold the information form, Shay. He did not want to bring up the hopes up of the poor sailor. Lee promised to look in the possibility but there was no sign of her.

He kept the story that she was dead.

Haytham still couldn't understand how the deaths incurred. Catherine had killed Azura in cold blood but trapped herself in the warehouse.

It was a tragic loss of life, but he was thankful that he did not put a blade in her. Azura's blood was the ink that signed Catherine's execution warrant. It was still dreadful news, a voice of reason argued that Catherine was an asset, not a threat. She was a young intelligent woman that outsmarted him and the other Templars. She left a nasty mark on Lee even.

A knock on the door, Haytham called for them to come in. William Johnson entered with a calming but troubled look.

"I got your letter, William." Haytham cleared his voice, "The native's land is under threat to being sold without their consent? Where the precursor site is."

"Aye, sadly yes." Johnson took a seat across from him. "It's your son's land."

Haytham internally sighed thinking about his estranged son. He remembered how he felt when Haytham first learned about the boy. The only connection he had towards the lad was Catherine's friendship with the native boy. He wanted to use her to get close to his boy, but with her death, the connection was severed. The Grandmaster knew well enough to leave the boy alone. The one kind thing that he could do was to help buy the land, so no one else in the colonies would know. The land was going to be stolen and sold to the highest bidder.

The bigger issue that the land guarded an old ancient civilization site. The land should not fall into the wrong hands if someone were to buy it out from under the natives.

"What funds do we have to purchase this amount of land?" Haytham asked, tapping his finger on the desk.

"I already have a plan in motion that involves smuggled tea," Johnson explained.

Haytham starred down the older Templar. "Go on." He was ready to listen.

**March 1770**

The list of chores and punishments that Rose had laid out for her daughter kept adding up. Never had she ever dealt with such disrespect from her only daughter. The mother knew if she had ever wronged her parents the way that Catherine had done to her. She wouldn't be living right now.

Rose had awoken to start the day with breakfast when she went to awake her sleeping teenager. She discovered that Catherine had slipped out in the early hours of the morning. Rose allowed it to slide, thinking she'd be back later in the day. No sign of the teenager, there was no cause of worry though. Just frustration for disobeying her mother.

Rose took the streets, dressed to fight off the cold seeing the snow. Her vibrant red hair hung over her shoulder, it bounced with each step she took. The mother cut corners tightly to avoid the crowds, people were on edge. Something in her subconscious told her to find her child fast.

In her rush, she rushed around a corner, almost stumbling into a man's arms. He grabbed her by the shoulders to stop from crashing into his chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir." She cleared her throat until her eyes mirrored the man. "Charles Lee," She breathed.

The Templar had a genuine expression of surprise to see her. "Mrs. Cormac." He pushed back coat. "I did not realize you still resided in Boston."

"Aye, I and my daughter run a tavern near the harbor."

There was a reason why she stayed away from New York after the death of her brother. It felt uneasy to be around men who were once her enemy, they could still be. The only ones she trusted were her husband and Haytham Kenway.

Charles Lee always gave her a feeling of uneasiness. He had argued against her staying at the Templar headquarters. Even though her child was dying from poison. She could hear him through the walls trying to get the others to agree. She always held a bitterness towards the man for it.

He didn't seem at all pleased to see her, In fact, he looked rush. She glanced towards his shoulder to see a musket was strapped over his shoulder. She found it odd to see him to have the weapon in this setting of dismay and chaos. a Why was he armed with such weaponry? He couldn't have just gotten back from hunting.

"What are you doin' here? If you don't mind me asking." Rose crossed her arms over her chest.

Charles noticed her staring at the musket, he tried to shuffle it out of view. He cleared his throat ready to spin a tale until the paid mercenary came by. Charles Lee cleared his throat before handing the weapon over.

"The boss man said there be no witnesses, to deal with them right?"

Rose stiffen as she heard the two men speak in hush whispers, What were they planning. Charles turned to face her see her turning her back to walk away. Charles Lee quickly reached over to grab her wrist knowing she heard him.

"We weren't done catching up." He gripped her wrist harder almost twisting it.

Rose gritted her teeth as she tried to retract her arm from his grasp. "I need to find my daughter." One final tug, she ripped her arm away from him. "I don't care what you are up too, but if someone is hurt in this. I will make sure everyone knows."

Charles's mustache almost twitched at her comment. "You better find your sweet little girl then. I would hate to see anything to happen to you or her."

Rose gritted her teeth as she stared at the Templar. With the few words that were exchanged between the two. Rose could understand that the Templars were up to something. It couldn't be good especially the climate between the citizens and the soldiers.

"Tell Haytham I said hello." She growled as she turned her back. The mother gave a lasting glance at the man before she scuttled off to find her daughter.

The mercenary glanced at Lee, "Do you want me to handle it? It wouldn't take much to handle a nag like that."

"No, I'll handle her after. Hopefully, she will be in the line of fire." Lee smugged before he went down the alleyway to take his position.

**March 1774**

Dressed in thick clothes was the only hope for Catherine to fight the biting cold. Though, it wouldn't do her much good if she fell into the river. She faced her opponent who was a 16 years old named William de Saint-Prix. She danced with her sparring partner upon a high wall. One wrong slip, she'd be feeling the icy sting of the water below. Her sword teacher, Perrier Bellec, found a clever way to instruct balance. Humiliation.

Catherine gave a hard lunged towards the younger boy. In a rush to evade to her attack, William made a fatal error that caused him to lose his footing. He stopped abruptly, catching himself before he fell into the water.

The uptight Frenchman had a foul attitude towards his young apprentices and Catherine. The Master Assassin shouted at his trainees with curses, "Sloppy! Do you call yourselves Assassins? You both make me malade!"

Catherine grunted in disgust, striking her opponent's practice sword. Her strike caused the young man to stagger, giving her the advantage that she so craved.

Bellec spat on the ground in disgust. "Especially you Pisspot, you will let this planteuse de choux win!?"

Catherine furrowed at the insult he tossed at her, "Cabbage farmer? How original. Maybe I should start calling you a baguette!"

"You'd be wise to not talk back to me, girl unless you'd want me to send you back to Charles in a pine box." Bellec catted.

In a secured area away from the public eye. The only specters that two teenagers had were four other students. All of them were already claimed victim by the water. Their clothes stuck to them as they shivered in the cold spring air. Catherine had been the victor so far much to Bellec's dismay. Though beating initiates in fake battles, it didn't prove much of a point to Bellec.

It did give the younger teenagers a chance to improve on their skills. The Assassin council had appointed Catherine to work under Bellec. It was a lesson to help prepare her on training new initiates into the brotherhood when it came to rebuilding the Colonial Brotherhood.

The younger Cormac didn't understand the disdain Bellec held towards her. Dorian told her to be patient with him and the others. He told her she would have to be patient until they learned to accept her fully.

Taking one last step, she knocked the sword of the younger man's hand. His weapon fell into the river, he held up his hands into defeat.

Catherine smirked towards the Master Assassin and gave a small bow to the tutor. "How is that Monsieur Bellec?" She cocked her head.

"Fine, except you would have gotten slaughtered with that performance." The Frenchman spat at the ground.

Catherine grinned, "Then why don't you come up here and face me yourself, Bellec?"

A clap cut off the Master Assassin from retaliating against his student. Charles Dorian stood before Bellec and the other novices. She grinned at the sight of her mentor, "Charles, your back."

"As much as I would enjoy watching you place Miss. Cormac in her place. She has a meeting with Sophie Trenet."

Pierre Bellec shrugged his shoulders, "fine take her. She is done for the day."

Being Aboard in France had not been easy on her, her last name carried a heavyweight in the brotherhood. Perrier Bellec was part of the Colonial Brotherhood before its destruction. He had bared witness to what her father had accomplished for the Templars.

Though the one good thing is she had become close with some of the novices like William. When she lept from the wall, landing on the balls of her feet. Her comrades patted her on the back, mention drinks later on at the Café Théâtre.

Dorian gawked at her messy appearance. "Go change, you look like Bellec had dragged you through the mud."

"Yet it hasn't killed her pride, so that is worth something." Bellec waved his hand. "Try not to be late, Cormac. Trenet does not like tardiness."

Charles Dorian cleared his throat as he gripped her shoulder. "I will walk with her to make sure she isn't."

Charles escorted the young woman back to her small flat, it was a modest place, a step up from her childhood home. It sat near the Sainte-Chapelle, easy access to the headquarters of the Assassin.

Paris had become her second home, she absolutely loved it. On the days she was relieved of her duties, Catherine would explore the historic streets of Paris. It was twice as busy as Boston, but she didn't mind. The sights and sounds made her fall in love with the city even more. She even started attended mass in Notre-Dame Cathedral. Catherine wasn't even religious, but religion was important to her mother.

They never got a chance to attend a religious service due to the spite towards Catholics in the colonies. Catherine did it on a slim hope that her mother would appear. It had been a long tedious search, but there was no sign of her. Catherine could only hope that her mother hadn't suffered from the hands of the Templars.

After living with Dorian for a few months, he declared that she would start her official assassin training. He announced her role within the brotherhood would be an initiate. That was a little under 3 years ago.

Dorian secured a lovely middle-class townhouse for the young woman. The even had hired a maid to keep her place clean since Catherine had such a busy schedule. Dorian lived outside the city of Paris, she needed all her time invested with the Assassins. The most generous gift he gave her was finishing her education. She enjoyed it, especially subjects like math and languages. With her French faring well, her tutor moved her onto beginners Spanish.

She offered to pay him back, but he declined. Saying in return that she would make a monthly trip into the smaller city of Versailles for a weekend trip. Catherine agreed full heartily.

"If you keep that up Catherine, your going to find a sword in your back," Dorian referred to how she snapped at Bellec.

Catherine snorted, "I like to see the man try."

Dorian patted on her back trying to keep a straight face. When they reached the small townhouse, Dorian waited inside in her small sitting area.

Catherine rushed up the stairs to her room, she passed her elderly maid, Anora in the stairwell. "Please get Monsieur Dorian some tea while I dress and reply to a letter."

The maid nodded, "Of course miss. Cormac."

Catherine hurried to her room unbuttoning to undress her upper layer of clothes. The young woman took the washcloth from a bowl filled with lukewarm water and rubbed it with soap. Catherine hummed as she scrubbed her neck and arms of any dirt. Scrunching up her face tight, she scrubbed her face of dirt. She splashed water onto her face followed by the act of dabbing her face with a hand towel.

Catherine brushed her hair over her shoulder as she stepped to her wardrobe. Touching the dark oak, she swung open the doors. Catherine pulled out a cotton shirt that she pulled over her chemise. She fastens the brass buttons up her powder blue waistcoat. Catherine wrapped a cravat she wore around her neck. The fabric was woven from fine silk, she felt it smooth around her neck. She reached over and grabbed her assassin coat to pull on.

Catherine touched the collar of the coat fixing it as she stared at herself in the mirror. Years ago when she was trapped in the warehouse fire, she thought she lost her father's coat to the flames. After she recovered from the harsh beating, Catherine had dug through the remains of the fire. In a surprising turn of events, she found it. The edges had been burnt, the coat had no longer been wearable.

When she came into the city, Dorian had surprised her with a new coat for training as an assassin. He told her that she should no longer wear something of her father's past, but something towards her future.

Her new coat shared a similar look with her older coat, but the fabric was finer. The same style of a captain's coat, but with elegant embroidery around the collar and sleeves. The top part of the coat had flaps over her shoulder made out of leather that attached to her hood. The tail of the coat stopped below her knees. It was button down the middle almost like a habit. It was a way for her to fit in without being suspicious as well as functional. The young woman enjoyed her new coat.

Catherine whisked over to her desk to reply to one of the letters. She had only received the pile of letters a little over a week ago, the young woman didn't have a chance to read one.

They were from Connor, her dear friend from the colonies. To her much pleasure, they exchanged letters every chance they would get. Every day she would write a letter to him and would send a stack every week. The native would reply in the same manner for the last few years since she had arrived in Paris.

Though she missed him, she had expressed it deeply within her letters.

She picked up one letter scanning the letter quickly.

_Dear Catherine, _

_As we both suspected there is no word from the Templars, it has been quiet since the mess that the Son of Liberties caused at Boston Harbor. Though, I can't imagine it being quiet for too long. I have taken your idea into consideration, but I don't believe my people will go for it. I trust you, but they are wary of the plot. I will talk it over with the clan mother. If our land is to be bought and protected, I would rather it be you. _

Catherine had expressed the idea of purchasing the land when she heard it was up for sale. The news spread that William Johnson had come forward as a buyer. Connor worked against the clock to diminish the Templar's funds. She would have paid anything to see the expressions on the Templars face. The outraged look as they watch the boxes of tea sunk to the bottom of the harbor. It gave Catherine the chance to jump on the advantage.

She sprung into a hatching a plan, a plan to buy the rights of land that the natives owned. Catherine would just need funding. She would sign over any of the rights to Connor.

_Achilles sends his best wishes towards you and to tell you to be patient with Bellec. Our small community has flourished in your absence, we gained some new members since we last talk. They wish to open a tavern on our land. I am sure you would enjoy that. _

_I wish you were here to see the progress of the homestead. I know that you don't feel ready to return yet, but I am confident you will be. The Templars are moving their pieces into play to grab a hold onto the colonies. They are silent for now. _

_Though, it could be more selfish reasons for you to return. I know we agreed to not speak of our intentions for each other, but my heart is full for you, Catherine. _

Catherine's heart fluttered at his words. They had shared passionate words with each other in the past talking about the kiss.

"Catherine?" She heard Dorian's voice called for her.

The woman shoved the letter into her pocket as Charles stepped into the room. "Trenet is expecting us."

"I apologized, I just saw the over the stack of letters on my personal desk." Catherine tried to explain as she pushed her hair over her shoulder.

"Anyone interesting?"

The assassin shrugged. "Just Connor, some from James."

"Your pockets are flowing from suitors then." The master assassin grinned. "Well, shall we lass?"

Catherine gave a short hard nod. "Follow the way."


	2. Orla

I hope this is the right document. It should be corrected with errors and all that fun stuff. I am excited about this second chapter.

-Moon

* * *

Catherine walked into the private library of the Master Assassins. Sophie Trenet awaited for the younger Assassin while she flipped through pages of a book she was reading.

"Mademoiselle Trenet," Catherine said as she approached her.

The older woman snapped the book shut, "Cormac, you are late." Her voice carried an irritated tone.

"Sorry for the tardiness."

"It's fine girl, you're here now."

Sophie Trenet was in her mid-twenties when she rose to the rank of Master Assassin and joined the council. The older woman was well known for her writings of work for equality and women's rights. Catherine had sunk her teeth into the works of Sophie Trenet since she had arrived. Her essays spoke of the oppressed classes and the god given rights that they deserved. For an unmarried woman of her age was an amazing accomplishment. Catherine had hardly ever heard of a woman being a published author.

"How fares your personal mission for the native land? Secure any more patrons who are willing to donate to your cause."

Catherine felt a twinge of self-doubt of full filling it. She had taken on private contracts for the rich nobles of the city. She had no way of knowing how much the Templars gathered in resources. Only stolen reports that the Brotherhood had secured since the Boston Tea Party. Everything was quiet on the Colonial Rite front. Catherine didn't trust the reports though. Haytham would always have a contingency plan.

No one in the Brotherhood believed that she could do it. Catherine wouldn't dream of asking Dorian for help, or the brotherhood from their treasury. This was the task for her so the Colonial Brotherhood could succeed in rebuilding. Dorian could only give her the guidance she needed.

Dorian held a private account for Catherine in the process for her. Being a woman, she wasn't allowed to handle her own money, but Dorian took up as her sponsor. It was strange to have a young woman live independently with someone taking care of her finances. The whispers of her existence were she was the bastard daughter of noble or the pretty mistress. No one from the public eye knew the truth. Her nosy neighbors sent her invites of tea and dinner. She simply ignored them which caused rumors to spread.

"It's not much, but I need one last hard push and I will have the funds I need for the tribal lands." Catherine sighed as she ran her fingers across the leather bound books. "The American Brotherhood made a mistake during the 7-Year War. They enslaved the Natives of posing tribes instead of trying to make them alleys. If we can do that, we have natural allies."

"I wouldn't let Bellec hear you say that. I'm not a fan of Achilles either though. The way he mentored the Brotherhood back during the war between the French and English was a mess. If he had only listened to your father, I am sure you or Connor wouldn't be cleaning his mess."

Catherine had mix feelings about her former mentor from the secrets she learned. "Well, it gives some real-world experience, doesn't it." She could taste the bitterness of her own tone.

"Very true." Trenet placed her book back into the bookshelf. "Now, the reason I summon you here today."

"Yes? Master Dorian said you wanted to speak to me about something important."

Catherine crossed over her arms over her chest. "I thought we didn't bring in personal affairs into the Brotherhood business."

Sophie gave a smug laugh. "We normally don't, but I believed it will be beneficial to you." Trenet handed a letter to her. "A dear friend of mine has had her fortune stolen by a dreadful man. Her second Husband."

Catherine unfolded the letter to skim it. "Everything she owns was signed over to him after she wed him." The words almost rotten her teeth with rage.

Trenet took the letter back from the young women. "Oui, it's shame that soon as we sign our name to marriage, we sign everything to our new partners. Society pressures us to be wives and mother. "

Catherine could feel something suspicious "May I ask what happen to her first husband?"

"He was a good man who was murder by men who bore the cross."

"Templars..." Catherine's voice darkened

"Yes. I suspect it was arranged by her second husband. "Trenet sighed as she tucked the letter away from Catherine's sight."I suspect so too."

Catherine nodded. "How shall I arrange to meet her?"

"No need Catherine, it's too risky to meet her in public, and in private. Her name is Genevieve Pronovost, if you help her, I am sure she can help you in return."

Catherine raised an eyebrow, "How can she help me?"

"She is one of Maria Antoinette's ladies of the court."

"Dauphin of France? The future Queen of France?" Catherine's mouth gaped at the shock.

Trenet walked over the younger woman, placing a hand onto her shoulder. "Do you now understand how crucial this will be for you?"

Catherine nodded, "aye, I do, but I have to ask why choose me for this? I know my goal hasn't shown much favoritism towards the brotherhood council."

"I already explain it to you." A flash of irritation crossed the older woman's face.

Catherine expressed curiosity. "I know, but why help me?"

"Take a look around, how many women do you see working within the confines of our order?"

Catherine took a moment to think about how many women she passed in the halls. There weren't many women she hadn't seen walk about the crypt halls. Sophie Trenet was the only woman of power within the confidences of the French Brotherhood. From the history lessons that she endured about the Brotherhood. It was started by a woman in Ancient Egyptian, her name was erased from history. Amunet, the hidden one.

"Not many."

"More good women are lost to marriage then famine and war. Our rights are stripped from us soon as the band is placed on our left hand. You, my dear, are perfect for this mission. You understand the plight of our fundamental rights being stripped from us."

Catherine bit the inside of her lip nodding, "I understand that."

"We are looked down as physically weaker. That we don't have the intellectual capacity to comprehend political issues. You and Genevieve are much more than that. She should have much right to gain access to her finances and property. That is why I want you to do this, not just because it will help you, but it will help push us to give us our rights."

"By killing her husband,"

"It's not much, but it will do for now." Trenet crossed her arms over his chest.

Catherine nodded, "where will I find him?"

"He is located in the city of Versailles, he owns a private villa that his wife isn't even aware of it."

Catherine thought about a quick plan for a moment. "I will have to investigate them. It shouldn't be hard to find his property. I will company Dorian back to Versailles until I find it."

"Very good."

The day after her meeting, Catherine was on the half-day journey to Versailles. She wore a light purple habit for a more casual dress then her assassin garbs.

Catherine ignored the rocking of the carriage as it swung her side to side as she made notes into her journal. Dorian sat across from her studying the young woman's face.

"Do you ever put that journal down?"

Catherine chuckled, "I am just drawing what I see."

"A special talent. You can take anything in a blink of an eye and remember it in down to the finest detail."

The assassin glanced at her mentor, her eyes smiling. "My mother use to say something along those lines. " Catherine went back to her sketches. After a brief moment of silence, Catherine spoke up again. "Do you think we will ever locate her?"

"Your mother is a smart woman. We are going to find her eventually. Though it's getting harder to do so."

"Why?"

"Reports of your father is being spotted throughout Europe, but he is looking for the precursor box."

Catherine felt cold thinking about her father. She had done so much wrong by him starting with faking her death. "The Templars cannot know I am alive yet. We have the notion of surprise, and I want to be the one to break that."

Dorian settled in his seat crossing his arms over his chest. "From my understanding, he was last spotted in Portugal. "

Catherine was silent, her voice hinders with doubt. "Is the box safe?"

Charles waved off her worries. "Of course, myself and the council are only aware of the location, but we do have a contingency plan to move it if your father comes to close to the box."

Catherine nodded her head. She still couldn't shake the idea about the prospect of seeing her father again. What would he say? What would she say? The assassin pushed the thoughts of her Templar father out of her mind.

"Now enough worries," He spoke awaking her from her inner thoughts. "If I am not mistaken, it will be your birthday soon in a few weeks, correct?"

"Aye, I'll be 19." Catherine smiled, "why?"

"I have an early birthday gift to give you."

A smile spread across Catherine's rosy lips. "You shouldn't have. What is it?"

Dorian smiled down on his foster daughter, "I thought this is something you can appreciate. Just wait until we arrive home."

The rest of the trip was silent until they were in the confines of the city. The city was a lot less busy than the city of Paris. city of Versailles was a lot smaller. The carriage pulled up in front of Charles Dorian's home. The carriage door open for the two, Catherine fixed her skirt as she climbed out of the carriage. Dorian held out his hand for her to take to step down. Her dress had a high enough lift in the front that would allow her to run and climb if she ever needed too.

The front door swung wide open, a seven-year-old boy stood in its threshold. "Father! Catherine!" He cried out in happiness as he ran down the steps of the house.

The maid staff stood in the front door. They had smiles plaster across the face to watch the reunion of the small family.

"Oof," Catherine chuckled when Arno plowed head into her torso in a hug. "Arno, it's good to see you too."

"Did you miss me?"

"Of course I did." The assassin gave the little boy a tight hug. "But it's only been 3 weeks, you couldn't have missed me that much, could you?"

"I always miss you."

Catherine chuckled and give a kiss on the boys head. "Why don't you give your papa a hug?"

Arno pulled away and ran over to his father who greeted him in the same manner. "Why don't we head inside and you can give Catherine part of her birthday present?"

"It's way too early for it,"

"It arrived last week! Come on."

Arno grabbed a hold of her hand to pull her inside the house, "Come out back to the garden's ill show you."

He looked at one of the maids, "will one of you go into my study and grab the wrapped parcel on my desk."

"Yes, Monsieur Dorian," the older of the maids cursory." Catherine followed the small family inside, the maid reappears with a wrapped box.

Arno grabbed her hand and pulled her to the gardens. The moment she arrived had been fizzy for her surprise. Catherine could only smile at the efforts that the Dorian put in her birthday.

Catherine stepped into the floral garden that hadn't reached its bloom yet. Arno handed her the package that she accepted with a smile.

"Go ahead and open it," Dorian instructed her.

Catherine glanced down onto the package, she shook it to make a guest at what it would be. It was a package that was long as her arm wrapped in brown paper tied with string. It didn't feel too heavy, she didn't have any idea on what the gift was.

With a single pull of the string, the ribbon came undone. She unfolded the paper, sliding it down. She reviled the box that held her gift. Lifting the top to the box, she caught a glance at the most thought full gift. She took the glove out of the box. It was a bigger than her normal size.

It reached her elbow, much like her old falconry glove. She had broken off the extra leather that served as Aries perch on her arm. It still saddens her till the moment to think of her close animal company that was snuffed out.

"Go ahead and put it on, Catherine."

Catherine slipped it on, placing it over the hidden blade. It was a perfect fit, there was a slip under her wrist that would let the secret blade spring from its sheath. The assassin insignia was engraved on the knuckle. The leather was heavy, much heavier than a normal glove.

"What is this?" Catherine asked as she went to look at Dorian. Until she noticed Dorian opened what looked like a small coup. A bird hopped out onto her arm.

"That a girl," he whispered to the bird. He gave her a soft scratch next to her head, she shut her eyes enjoying the soft touch.

Catherine walked towards her mentor. "What is that?"

Dorian glanced up at the younger woman, "I know you were upset about Aries, but I figured after time has passed. You'd want to try your hand again at falconry. So I acquired you an eaglet. She is yours."

Catherine gasped at the sight of the fledgling that climbed onto Dorian's arm. "Charles, this is too much. way too much." Tears stung She walked up to the man to hold out her arm for the bird. "How old is she?" Catherine was handed a treat from Arno to give the eagle. The bird hopped onto the arm of the young woman, peeking the meat out of her hands.

"She's 4 months old, just turn into a fledgling. She is a golden eagle, so she would fit right in the Americas."

Catherine took at the moment to admire the bird. She was no more than juvenile with whiteness still peaked on her brown feathers from when she was an eaglet. The sun shined down on the bird that gave it's golden shimmer. Her yellow beak had a black tip to it. This beautiful animal was the size of Aries when he died. If this was a fledgling size, she wondered how big the eagle would get.

"Thank you, Charles." She smiled at the thoughtful gift. "She is beautiful."

"Your welcome, girl." Charles smiled, "What are your going to name her?"

"I don't know…" Catherine starred in the bird's golden iris like she was staring into her soul. The bird cawed as she tightens her grip in the leather gauntlet. "She is lovely…Orla, I am going to name her Orla." Catherine smiled at her new friend, "you like that?"

The bird chirped in response, "it seems so." Dorian smiled.

The way the regal eagle starred her down as if she was trying to connect to her. "She can be my eyes in the sky." She smiled.

Memories of flight flashed past the young woman's eyes as if Orla and herself were one.

Since her induction to the Brotherhood, her senses became stronger. Like her connection to the world was stronger and brighter then it ever has. Orla unlocked something in her that she never felt before.

"Why don't you spend some time with your new friend, then we can go over plans for your missions." Dorian place a hand on her shoulder giving it a tight squeeze before heading inside.

Arno watched her, "Do you think we can fly like them?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"I dunno, it seems possible though." She smiled, "maybe in the future?" Catherine held her arm up for the proud animal to take flight. With one large flap of it's wing, it flew in the air.


	3. Twilight to Sunrise

So once again, I changed the title of the story. I am going to stick to this! I swear! Also, I wanted to note that I am so happy about how long this chapter is. I was originally going to break it up, but I didn't want anyone to assume anything yet. I promise this isn't going to go the way you expect. It will not tie into Odyssey much, I swear to god! Catherine isn't a Mary Sue either, she has been training for four years, so she has gotten better at fighting.

Enjoy!

Moon

* * *

Catherine finished the last of her letters to the Colonies. She dipped her pen in the ink well as she finished a letter to James. He had spread the news that his sister had recently married and moved to upper New York. He was settling in New York with his own shop opening up. With his mother's passing from ammonia. Jame's other sister went under an apprenticeship with a seamstress in the city. He was happy that his sisters were starting new lives and his mother had joined his father in internal peace.

James was happy, but he missed her and their adventures. He had reassured her that he was alright though. Yet a fear had been set in Catherine that James would be caught as a spy by the Templars.

The main headquarters of the Templars laid hidden within the port city. No one knew where, not even Catherine, even though she had stayed within the bounds of the headquarters. The young woman feared for James' safety and always pressured him to be safe. Warned him to never do anything that would cause him harm.

For now, James enjoyed the bearings that his newfound shop brought him.

Catherine yawned, feeling the tiredness in her eyes as her eyelids began to droop when she put her quill down. Orla was already resting with her head nestled between her wings on her preach, near an open window.

Looking at the grandfather clock in her room, it was a couple of ticks before one in the morning.

Pressing her fingers to the tips of her nose, she sighed. She had been in Versailles less than a week and found no sign of her target anywhere. Dorian hadn't even been able to pick up tabs of the man. Monsieur Pronovost was a rat dressed in fine silk that scoured throughout the city. The only lead she had was the fact he sat around taverns

She had to wait until she heard the word of the man making an appearance in the area.

Catherine extinguished any light in the room. The moonlight caste its glow in her darkening chambers.

Catherine skipped her nightly routine of getting ready for bed. She kicked off her shoes and walked over her bed. She shrugged off her outer clothes before slipping into bed. Catherine bore nothing but a white lien chemise that clothed her ivy skin.

Catherine cast a singular glance at herself in the mirror. Her tired brown eyes gazed back at the 19-year-old girl in the mirror. Catherine Cormac had changed in the last few years since the Boston Massacre, not just emotional, but physically. Her once flat body had flourished into a woman for her age. Catherine had blossomed into womanhood, leaving her childlike youth behind. The woman imagined what it was like back home in Boston with some of the other girls she had grown up with. Catherine could only imagine them married with babes on their hips by now.

Catherine reached up to pulled her to the side to examine her face much more closely. With her fingertip, she traced a very defined scar from under her left eyelid that curved over her cheek to her ear. Her nose was slightly crooked from the solid punch that she was given by Charles Lee. The scar was half a finger thick, it was barely visible to the naked eye.

Catherine Cormac wasn't afraid of Charles Lee, or the men he hired. Catherine knew she could have been a victim of a heinous crime, but she escaped it. Knowing her mother was alive brought her new found determination. The one regret that Catherine held was Azura, her death was an accident. She would carry that guilt to the grave.

Laying her head on the feather pillow, she closed her eyes trying to brush the memories of the past out of her mind. Her dreams were at peace, they had been at peace since the truth of her mother came to light.

_Rose knew better than to wander in the woods alone, her father and mother took rest near the roadside. Her older brother, Liam, helped his father with repairs on the wagon. The wheel had popped off, they were leaving New York for a fresh start in Boston. She didn't understand why but her father told her to mind her manners when she asked. Her mother explained it was a chance at a fresh start. _

_The young girl was sad about leaving her home, especially leaving her close friend, Shay behind. Liam, Shay, and herself made quite a small group through the years since the day she meet him on the streets of New York. Rose never got to say goodbye though when they left, Shay had been out on the sea with his father. She left a sealed envelope with a handwritten letter. Liam was able to produce the letter for her on the account she didn't know how to write. _

_Wondering alone in the woods, Rose scrunched her face in frustration. She lost her way back to the road where her family was camp. Her mother had warned her not to wander too far from the camp, but she didn't listen. _

_Rose picked up the ends of her skirt to walk through the woodland. The young redhead girl froze when she heard a twig snap. Swallowing hard, she imagines that her family was going to find the remains of her body from wolves. _

_"Papa?" Rose whispered as she leaned over to pick up a big stick to hit her attacker. She planted her feet firmly into the ground ready to strike at the oncoming animal. _

_Out of the bushes came a young girl around Rose's age. Expect she was different, she wore clothing that was made out of fur. Her hair was placed in twin braids that were adorned with a feather and beads. _

_Rose dropped the thick branch, showing she meant no harm. _

_"What are you doing on our land?" the native girl asked. _

_Rose opened her mouth to speak, "I got lost."_

_"Of course you did." The girl rolled her eyes at the colonial girl. "You better be careful, there is a hunger bear nearby." _

_"A bear? I never saw one before." _

_The native girl smirked, "well, I am going to be the first in my village to hunt it." _

_"That sounds amazing" Rose smiled, "I'm Rose."_

_"Kaniehtí:io," _

_"Huh? I never heard a name like that before." _

_"You can call me Ziio." _

_Rose reached out her hand to shake hers, "Nice to meet you, Ziio."_

_The native looked unsure but reached out her hand to shake. _

A presence awoke Catherine from her realistic dream, she sat up in her bed, reaching for her nightstand. She retrieved a matchbox to light her bedside candle. This wouldn't be the first time she was disturbed in her sleep. The first night during her stay was little Arno who couldn't sleep from roaring thunderstorm. She stayed up with the little boy, rubbing his back as she hummed an old Irish lullaby that her mother would sing to her. When he had fallen asleep, she carried the young boy back to his bedroom where he slept peacefully through the night. His bedroom was only next to hers, so she didn't mind helping the child when his father was away.

Though, a shiver through her spin suspected that this was different. "Arno?" She softly breathed.

The hair that stood on the back of her neck told her otherwise. Catherine noticed that her window was wide open when she had left it shut a few hours prior. Orla was gone, she suspected that the bird went out for the hunt after someone had opened it. The young woman scurried out of her canopy bed going for her hidden blade on her desk. She slipped the gantlet on, locking the buckles in place. She focused on her gift of eagle vision, she was able to lock on footprints from the window that was leaving her room.

Her heart skipped a beat as her first instinct was to go check on Arno. She could care less about her own safety as long as that little boy was safe. Catherine Cormac would protect that little boy like a lioness would protect her cub.

She followed the footprints into the hall, the fresh mud tracks glowed bright red as they led to Arno's room. The hidden knife sprung to life from her gauntlet with a simple flick of her hand. Catherine steadily pushed open the door to the child's bedroom. She first saw Arno's sleeping figure in the bed, but above the young boy made her blood boil. A man sat on the edge of the boy's bed playing with what looked like a knife in hand.

She flung the door open stepping into the room gritting her teeth, ready to throw herself at the shadow man.

The man turned around with a snake like a smirk, he pressed his finger up to his lips to shush the young woman. "We wouldn't want to wake the innocent, though I have to ask why it took you so long to sense my presence." The man had a strong thick accent from a faraway land,

"What are you doing in this house?" She gritted her teeth, "Leave the child alone."

"Oh, don't worry, I am not here for him, but I am here for you girl." He continued to play with his dagger. "But unless you like to see the boy hurt go put clothes on and be back in 5 minutes. We will be leaving shortly, don't think of waking anyone up."

Catherine growled, but only giving a short crud nod. She had no choice but to follow his orders for Arno's safety. She quickly slipped into her room to dress. She did not dally to change into her assassin robes. Catherine thought quickly on where she can hide a weapon in a quick tussle. She made her way back to Arno's bedroom to see the man still playing with the knife.

Catherine made a silent pray that Charles would realize she was missing. Though she did not need saving, she could handle herself in any fight pit against her.

"I see you didn't take your time, not going to do anything with your hair?"

The young woman growled, "Where are we going?" She glowered.

"To meet some friends of mine." He reached over to grab her arm tightly. "Shall we miss. Cormac?"

Catherine ripped away from him. "You're kidnapping me under the distress of a young boy?"

"Oh, I am not kidnapping you, I am not dragging you out of here."

Catherine spat in his face, "I demand to know who you are."

The man did not blink at the hunk of spit that landed on his cheek "Let's just say myself and my associates have been hinting your kind for a very long time, we have an offer for you." He calmly wiped the fluid from his face.

"Templars," Catherine glared

The showed a wolfish grin before giving a cackle as he leads her out of the room. "Oh my dear, more than that. We shouldn't be keeping Pronovost waiting." He made sure she'd be quiet as they crept through the halls.

Catherine's eyes widen at the sound of the name. Pronovost was her target, Martian Pronovost. She relaxed her face to hide the fact she knew of this man. A suspected Templar that was suspected of murdering his wife's previous husband for the young couple's wealth. She knew that it would be easier if she allowed the man to escort her.

"Who are you?"

He beckoned her to follow him through the front door of the house. "Call me Adonis."

Catherine wasn't going to allow herself to fall into another trap like back in the Boston Warehouse. She refused to fall victim to this man.

"Well then, Adonis, lead the way to your master. I want to know who comes into my home and threatens my mentor's son."

"Not a threat, just something to get you to leave your room." The man threw her out in front of him for her to walk by herself. Her curly red locks fell in front of her face with the force he pushed.

She combed the curls out of her face as she walked forward into the darkened streets. Even in the late of the nights of Paris, there was still life in its streets late in the night. She can remember harlots, thieves, and hermits prowled the streets at night looking to fill their pockets. Catherine never paid any mind to them as she ran above them in the shrouded night. Now that she stepped through the streets of Versilia, she could see there was hardly a soul in sight. They would pass an occasional patrol of guards that patrol the streets to keep curfew in check.

The strange man guided the young woman through the streets with no worry of being caught.

After an hour walking, they arrive at a private home that was right on the skirts of the city with nasty brutes hired to stand watch. They allowed the pair to pass without question. "I wouldn't try anything funny girl, we outnumber you."

"Do you know who I am?"

"A girl who is supposed to be dead, who could barely stand on her own."

"I escaped, didn't I?" Catherine huffed.

The man chuckles, "Luck."

"Well, I don't need luck by the way." Catherine didn't pay attention to the decor, or the expensive arrangements. She kept an eye peeled for an escape route. The man leads her to a back room of the small, but lavish home.

The man opened the door for her where a well-dressed man sat talking to another man over a glass of dark wine. "Ah here is our guest of honor."

"Oh, so I am a guest." Catherine mocked with a bow. "I didn't realize that."

The well-dressed man, who was standing with a drink greeted her. "We are not forcing you to stay girl, sit have a drink." He reached for a bottle of wine, pouring another glass. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Martian Pronovost."

"I am assuming you know who I am." She cocked her eyebrow, refusing the drink.

Catherine caught the glance of the Templar ring around his finger that was extended to her with the glass in hand. She eyed the second, she scoured his appearance to see any signs of his affiliation. She saw nothing, but a pin that stuck to his outer coat. It was two vipers that were intertwining.

"Take a seat, Miss. Cormac." The second man spoke, "We have a position to offer you that could be most generous and that could help you find your mother."

"Why would I accept the help from Templars? You people were the start of the reason why I am here." She refused to take a seat, hiding her true intention.

"What did Adonis tell you exactly about why you came here?"

Catherine narrowed her eyes at him. "He threaten a young boy, I had no choice in coming."

Martian Pronovost made a ticking noise. "I thought I said a clean invite."

"Well, she is here, isn't she?" Adonis spoke, "I did my task."

The second mysterious man held up his hand. Catherine guessed that Adonis was on the lower end of the chain of command here. "Yes, you did. Now, go take a seat and wait for further instructions."

It clicked in her head what the accents were from the men that that were speaking. It was Greek, she had only ever heard Greek accents once before in her life on the harbor back in Boston.

"Miss. Cormac, my name is Marco Ange. I am trying to recruit Mister. Pronovost here on a quest."

Catherine made a sound of disgust as she heard him spoke. "A quest? Are we trying to find Camelot?"

Marco chuckled as he stood up with the help of his cane. "Not quite my dear... I do enjoy the imagination of the young though."

Marco had olive colored skin that was covered in wrinkles that spoke his age. He was near the end of his life span, but Catherine couldn't be sure of his true age. "Will you listen to an old man's request?"

Catherine stayed where she stood, knowing this could be a trap. "What is it? You spoke about my mother."

"Ah, yes, Rose. I had the pleasure of meeting her about a few months ago, but only in passing. Let me tell you, you are her sunrise, Miss. Cormac, she raved how proud she was of her daughter."

The young woman didn't allow her face to falter as she listens to the old man talk about her mother. She only stood there and listen to him. "I don't believe a word you say."

"Well, it doesn't matter if you do, or not. I have an offer for you in the store."

"What kind?" Catherine asked she fidgeted with her hidden blade. She was ready to pounce on the first man.

The walked over to the young woman, gently patting her back, walking her over to a desk that shown a map of the known world. "You known my dear, we have been after people like you for a very long time."

Catherine inched closer to the man. "Assassins?"

Martin laughed. "Not quite, but someone of your abilities. Instead of hunting you people down like animals, we want you to join us."

Catherine wasn't sure what the old man was talking about. "You mean Eagle Vision? It's a rare gift, but not that rare. My father has it, my friend Connor, a few in the brotherhood has it."

"No, no, more than that. Have you ever felt a connection with animals, especially winged ones, or have you witnessed visions from the past or the future?"

Catherine swallowed hard, the visions she experienced for the last few years. The Assassin thought that they were permanent effects of coming in contact with the precursor box.

Marco rose his glass to her, "I see the look on your face tells me everything."

She fixed her expression. "You don't know that." Catherine pointed accusingly.

How the hell would he know that about her? Catherine's brain raced at how he could know about this. The visions came to her in her dreams...The special connection with animals? She couldn't explain it, but it felt like she could understand an animals nature by it looking at her.

She already knew Orla's behavior. In fact, under the moonlight, she had seen the shadows of Orla's wings. "How do you know about this?"

A smile spread on his lips. "Tell me, child, have you ever heard about the Cult of Kosmos?" Marco asked.

Catherine shook her head, never had she heard of this cult before.

Martian spoke with a grin, "I was with you on that Miss. Cormac, you see this cult is thousands, upon thousands of years old. We can be traced all the way back to the Ancient Greek world. In fact, the Templars are a branch of us. We are made up of Assassins and Templars from all over the globe. We are small though."

"If the Templars branch from you, then you are the same." Catherine gritted her teeth, "If you think I will swear an oath to you lot, your insane."

"Not even if it means seeing your mother again?" Martian asked, "We can even provide the money that will help buy your lovers land."

Catherine's eyes flashed to the man with a peek of interest. She fought to hide the flush of her cheeks when he called Connor her lover. "We aren't courting, we are just good friends."

Adonis laughed from his seat as he drank a bottle of wine. "Those letters to your friend say otherwise. It would make a wench blush."

"They do not have a risque topic in them!" Catherine snapped at the man.

"Oh don't they?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Catherine was ready to pounce on the Greek man to kill him. She was ready for her moment. She would have to take care of this lot, they were too dangerous to keep alive. Martian would be the first to go. He was her true target.

"The reason why we brought you here, Catherine. Is because we want you to join us. We will give you what you want, but you have to do something first," Marco spoke with eagerness,

Catherine stared down at him, "What?"

"I need you to kill my wife," Martian spoke up. "She is going to be at the Palace tomorrow in the royal gardens which would be an easy attack target."

Catherine glared at him, "No way in hell, she is innocent."

"That may be so, but she is in the way." He shrugged, "She gave me what I wanted, so now I have no use for her." Martian's dark eyes meet hers. "Though, I'd be more than willing to let you take her place. I mean as my wife, can you imagine how much we can do together as a couple?" He laughed, "Also your not back looking girl." He walked up to her to touch her face. "Even if it's dinged up a bit."

The assassin was stuck in between the two men. Her hidden blade on warm, a dagger stuffed up the other. If she could get rid of the third, she could take out the two most powerful men in the room.

"I would never," Catherine growled.

Martian looked at the other Greek man, "Adonis, you can go ahead and take care of it. You should go get set up in position."

"That's shame, I was looking for a lovely woman on my arm." He fixed his coat collar before making his way out of the room.

Martian was still staring her down. "I figure that killing wouldn't be suited too you, but there are other ways you can be useful to us. I mean it would be fitting especially after you killed one of us already."

Catherine could only count on a hand of high point targets that she killed. "Who?"

"Azura, she was our eyes in the Colonies. She said you had much promise in her letters, its a shame though."

The young woman stiffen remembering the Persian woman who died on accident. "That was an accident."

"Not likely, I would never join a bunch of Templars," Catherine growled.

Marco cleared his throat, "We are not Templars. We are better than them. Instead of trying to rule mankind, we are trying to end it."

That took Catherine by surprise when she heard him speak those words. "What?"

"The world has been here for longer than any of us imagine. As the circle of life shows us, all things must end girl. Our goal is to see to that." Marco took a sip of his wine. "We may have once seen to guide mankind, but we now see what it is. Disgusting creatures who do nothing, but enslave, kill and rape."

Catherine couldn't believe what she was hearing from this old man. She glanced at Martian who didn't seem to be phased at this ideology. "How many of you are left?" She breathed.

"Not many, but we are slowly growing. I know this something you have to believe. You witnessed first hand of the British firing upon your home, you were left to die in a burning warehouse. "

Catherine's eyes were on fire, "No, that was a few men, not the whole of mankind. " She unleashed her blades and slammed both into the men.

Her hidden blade collided into the older man's throat. He crumbled to his knees with blood oozing out of his neck. "D-do you think I fear death girl?" He croaked as he gripped his neck.

Martian was nicked in the shoulder, but he stumbled back reaching for his pistol. Catherine didn't pay attention to the dying's man words as she pounced on the man that was still standing. They struggled with his weapon, he accidentally fired into the ceiling that would of alert the men downstairs.

Catherine raised her knee to the man's chest, knocking the breath out of him. She interested her hidden blade into his chest like a lioness with sharp claws. Her clothes were soaked with blood from the two men. Martian's breaths were shallow and short. "I should have seen that coming."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have tried killing your wife, or threaten a little boy's life."

"Your just a villainous little girl, aren't you?" Martian swallowed hard. "Do you think you will get far in life without a man like myself, or a group backing you?"

"I could care less."

"You won't get what you want, sweetheart. Look at the time...I was able to claim my wife's fortune for myself without a word of approval. What are you going to do against the Colonial Templars?"

Catherine laughed. "I will take care of them like I took care of you." she reached into her pocket and pulled out two coins. "Here, coins for the ferryman. That's at least I can do. I will make sure your hired lackey will be next."

Heavy footsteps could be heard right outside the door with the voicing of concern from the hired mercenaries. Catherine dashed towards the window, jumping out, making her escape quickly under the rising sun. In the back of Catherine's mind, she prayed that would be the last she heard of this group.


	4. To Save a Life

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! Here is another chapter for you guys! I am introducing another OC that will play a small part for Catherine. **

**-Moon**

* * *

Catherine was out of breath when she made it back to the Dorian home. She barged into the house just as Charles hurried downstairs with a concerned look on his face.

"Catherine! What happen?". Charles hurried to the assassin as she pushed past him. He studied her for a moment to see dark of splotches of water covered parts of her coat. "Why are you wet?"

She looked down at herself seeing that her coat was still wet. The assassin had stopped by a well to wash out the blood from her coat, but she couldn't get to the shirt. Catherine knew that she would have to change before slipping into the Palace of Versailles.

"I'll explain later, but I have to get inside the palace now. Genevieve Pronovost has a hit out on her place by her husband. Don't worry, the bastard is dead, I made sure of that." Charles followed behind her. "I need to get in, now. A man is waiting to kill her inside the gardens."

Catherine's voice carried a sense of urgency, Charles understood as he rushed to his office to grab a piece of paper off his desk.

"Genevieve should know who you are. I have a warrant that shows you have a summons to the palace. This will get you inside the gate, but quick and mindful. If you pose a threat to the royal family they will take you done." He held a piece of paper with a seal on it, he handed it to the young woman.

She took it and stuffed it into her coat pocket, ready to present it at a moments notice. "I'll try to be mindful," Catherine voiced, "I was trained for this." She made a quick escape to her room to change her blood stain shirt. She would be a dead give away to any guards or people of the court. Catherine armed herself with a sword that she was able to hide behind her coat.

The young woman wasted no time in exiting the door, Charles was already dressed as well. "I am coming with you girl, I have the maids watching Arno. Tell me on the way what happen. We have plenty of time before the hit is taken place."

Catherine felt flustered as she hurried alongside her mentor. She explained the tale of the man, Adonis that weaseled his way into the Dorian home. She explained how she was forced to leave with the man under the threat of Arno's life.

That indulged Charles anger as they hurried to a carriage. He tried to not lose face as he told the man the destination of the Palace. Catherine told her whole story about killing the two men and third escaping to do his task.

Catherine could already see a crowd entering into the gilded gates of the Palace. Catherine threw the door of the carriage open and climbed out in a rush. "Please go find Genevieve, warn her before it's too late. Ill find Adonis."

Charles grabbed her arm, stopping her from spurting into the situation. "Agreed, stick to the shadows and don't let him spot you."

"Aye, I will be careful."

Catherine squeezed her way through the finely dressed nobles. Some threw her a look of disgust at her attire for a woman that wore inappropriate clothes for the palace. Catherine paid no mind to the woman as she proceeded through the crowd of silk. She kept a calm demeanor as she walked through the palace. In normal circumstances, she would draw in her surroundings of the beauty of the building with its exquisite art. This wasn't her first time at Versailles, Charles had brought her to meet for business with other Assassins.

Catherine walked through the double doors into the open air garden. She couldn't be any more amazed at the view of the gardens, the view was like something out of a fairy tale. Though she knew the vast size of the gardens. There was no way she could find Adonis before he murdered Genevieve.

The young woman pushed back her vibrant hair, taking a breath to pause her racing brain. Hearing a cry from the sky, she saw Orla circling above her like a guardian. Being just fletching, she was already large then any bird she had seen France.

The assassin thought back to what the crazy old man said to her about her abilities she was gifted. Her connection with winged animals... That couldn't be possible. The way he spoke to her almost like she had some strange magical abilities, witchcraft.

Catherine knew she had no other alternative. She would just have to try to reach a connection onto Orla. Shutting her eye tightly, she focused on Orla. In a force she never experienced before, her eyesight projected into the sky. A true bird's eye view. Orla and Catherine were like one, it was truly amazing.

Over the grounds of people, there was one figure that stood apart at the far end of the main pathway of the garden. There that stood under the trees near the end of the path close to the Grand Canal. Adonis was hiding under the shrubby. She couldn't tell if he had a weapon on him, but she could see a small crowd of women near him.

Catherine could only guess that Genevieve was amongst the woman as well as Maria Antoinette.

The out of body experience was over in seconds as soon as she felt someone bump into her. She took a moment to catch her breath to reconnect with her surroundings. There was no time to dali.

Catherine bolted from her spot, she got some curses and shouts at her for running. She bumped into a woman who fell over in a shriek. The assassin had caught the eyes of the palace guards. Shouting loudly in French, they order her to stop, but she ignored the commands of the guards. She was faster than the pack of guards behind her.

Stopping would put a threat on Genevieve's life, even if she tried to explain what happen. They would arrest her anyway for disorderly conduct. Catherine picked up the pace, pushing her stamina to the limit. She forced her way through a small group of people quickly, causing the pair of palace guards to stumble over. The young woman left the men in her dust as she continued to book it. Catherine stepped off the sidewalk into the shrubbery near the canal. Beyond down the path that leads to the Grand Trianon, a second home for the royalty of the estate along with more private gardens.

Catherine flipped up her hood to slip quietly through the trees and shrubby. The standing trees were tall enough to climb. Though, she would be closer to the ground. From the history of Versailles she read, the palace was originally a hunting lodge for King Louis XIII. There was plenty of wilderness and meadows full of game for the royal hunting parties. She could still see some of the wilderness charms on the property. Though it gave a chance of assassination for its residents and visitors.

The young woman quietly walked through the trees, unleashing her hidden blade. The assassin spotted her target. Adnios was dressed as a palace guard, but he had a musket strapped to his back. The man was waiting for his target to come into his line of sight. His disguised as a guard hid his intentions to murder a close friend to the Dauphine of France.

She tracked behind him in silence, much like a wild lioness hunting her prey. Her footsteps were silent as she slipped up behind him. The Greek man was unaware of the ghost-like the presence of the assassin. Her skills had truly grown over the last four years.

Catherine was ready to bounce on her target when she heard the giggles and laughter of women. Beyond the tree, a heard of finely dressed women along with servants were walking along. In the front of the pack was a woman dressed in a blush rose gown with a servant beside her holding up a matching parasol overhead to keep the sun out. Her blonde hair was tied back into a high roll with curls. Catherine could only guess the woman that stood yards away from her was Maria Antoinette. The future Queen of France.

A woman dressed in a light green gown walked beside her, making light conversation. Her black hair was tied back much similar to the Dauphine. She called her by her first name, Genevieve.

Catherine flashed a look towards Adnios who held up his weapon ready to fire. His finger fidgeting with the trigger. Catherine ran forward like a small fox that jumped on her prey. A sound of the gunshot went off, but with the force of Catherine's tackled the musket ball was impeded into the ground. The women from the group screamed and covered for safety.

"Run!" She shouted.

Adnios rolled on the ground with her trying to reach his secondary weapon, but she threw punched into his face to subdue him.

Catherine took hold of his collar delivery a punch to his face."Enough! Your masters are dead. You are about to join them." Catherine shoved the sharpen metal into his gut with a twist.

The Greek man moaned in pain, "You think you won this girl? There are more of us." He gurgled blood from the edges of his mouth. The man laid dying in her arms. "_Tha afxitheí, ópos sas péftoun_."

Catherine couldn't translate the words that he spoke to her fast enough. Greek was something she didn't understand. After the fleeting moments, he exhaled his last breath. Catherine starred into the lifeless eyes of Adnois. An act of kindness, Catherine reached forward to shut his eyes for him before standing up.

Charles was the first appear with guards trailing behind him. Another man stood beside him, he was dressed in a guards uniform but his decorative, showing that he was an official.

"I killed him, he won't be able to hurt anyone here now."

Charles walked forward and touched her shoulder, "are you alright?" He looked exasperated with concern. He checked her over for any signs of injury, but she brushed him away.

"Aye, I am."

The man who arrived on the scene looked furious at the sight. He turned to Charles and spoke in French. Catherine followed the man along to listen in on them. He wanted to know why he wasn't informed sooner about this assassination attempt and how Catherine made him look like a fool.

Later

Catherine sat at the oak desk of the Captain of the Royal guard. Her finger taps on the desk in a fit of nervousness. She had told her whole story about an assassination plot, but no one gave any reaction to her. She had murder someone in cold blood in front of witnesses. If this didn't plan out well, her head would end up in a basket.

Catherine side eyed Charles, who looked calm as he sat in his chair. "How can you be so calm in a moment like this? If this goes sideways, I could lose my head. I honestly would prefer hanging, but does the French even hang?"

"As I last check, Catherine. Yes, the French do still hang." Dorian scratched his nose a bit with a cracked smile. "So don't lose your head over this."

Catherine slapped him on the arm. "Arse, you find this funny?"

"I do Catherine. Relax, the Captain is a known asset to the brotherhood. Everyone knows that you saved Mademoiselle Pronovost and the Dauphine of France."

The assassin knew that it was crazy. She could put on trial for being caught of killing a man on the palace guards. "She just happened to be there at the wrong place at the wrong time." Catherine brushed her hair back slowly. "I can imagine the captain wasn't too happy about me upstaging his job."

"Especially since it's his job to make sure the royal family is protected." Charles reached over to pat her arm. "You told the whole truth about this so-called cult. He is investigating the claims and having the Martain's Pronovost private home looked into."

Footsteps could be heard echoing through the halls. Catherine sat straight up as the Captain waltzed into his office shutting the door behind him. "Well, Mademoiselle Cormac, it seems your story checks out. We found a single body along with evidence of what you speak." He spoke coolly, frustration leaving his voice.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "A single? There should be two."

The Captain had a look of irritation, "I know, but it seems Martain Pronovost is gone."

Catherine gritted her teeth, the blows that she landed on Martain wasn't fatal. "He can't be alive unless his men got him to a safer area."

"That is the working theory." The Captain scratched his chin for a moment. "He wouldn't be in any shape to fight again, especially with the amount of blood loss he suffered. A warrant has been placed for his arrest."

Dorian stood up slowly from his chair, "Its safe to say that he won't be targeting anyone for a while."

"Your very lucky, you could have been arrested, trailed and executed for murder, but your story is true. So, With this wrapped up, your both free to go." He waved his hand at his desk with a quill in hand. "Your lucky we were able to cover this up, girl. Dorian expressed her that you are trying to stop news from reaching the Americas."

Catherine gave a short nod. "Aye, I am supposed to be dead according to certain people, so I thank you."

The captain waved his hand as a gesture as a welcome. Charles placed a hand on her shoulder leading the assassin out of the room. "Your lucky Catherine,"

"I know, but we stopped those bastards." Catherine stretched her arms out in a tired yawn. "Oh sweet mother of Joseph, I am tired."

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

"2 hours, I think." Catherine followed him outside the building, there waiting for the pair was Geneneve Pronovost.

"I wanted to come to see you in a person." She gave a small smile of appreciation to the younger woman approached her. "Sophie was correct to send you. I want to say my thanks to you," her voice was thick with a French accent.

"You're quite welcome." Catherine smiled at the brunette woman that stood out in front of her.

The woman flashed a smile that showed her teeth. Catherine had to admit the woman that stood before her was extremely beautiful with her dark hair pulled back in elegant curls. Her face was colored with light makeup that showcased her natural beauty. The mint green she was wearing complimented her outfit.

Catherine found this woman highly attractive. Her cheeks slight blush at how she smiled towards the redhead.

"In my thanks, I want to help you with your land problem in the British Colonies, but first I want to give you this." The noblewomen reached into her coat pocket to produce a letter. "This is for you, its formal invitation back to the Palace."

Catherine took the invitation to form her. "For what?"

"A small gathering that is being arranged in your honor for saving my life as well as Maria Attinoinet life as well."

Catherine swallowed a hard lump. She couldn't imagine herself accepting such an event. 5 years ago she was a teenager running a tavern with her mother, now she was being invited to parties with royalty. It's funny how dramatic life could change in a blink of an eye.

"I don't have anything to wear." Catherine blurted out. She was gracious for the invite, but she didn't feel like it was such a good idea to attend.

Genevieve waved her hand, "I'll have someone send you a dress, we are about the same size, so let me worry about it. How does red sound?"

"That be fine, but I am unsure if I should go."

Charles cleared his throat patting her on the back. "Catherine, you've been working hard. Enjoy yourself, the last time you had a good time, you were shot."

Catherine winced at remembering how she was at her last rich party, she was shot by James for his anger at her father. The assassin reached for her side indistinctively, remember the musket ball in her gut. "I guess."

The noblewomen flashed her warm smile again after a look of concern."My, you do have an interesting life. Well, I hope to see you tomorrow night then. Au Revoir."

Catherine watched the woman take her leave away from the two assassins. She knew that it was time to breathe for a change. More than just getting drunk with novice assassins.


	5. Time at the Palace

**Whoot! Another Chapter, I don't think I am doing so well, I only got on review the last update. I promise you that this will be a good chapter, I am ready for Catherine to return to Boston. I am ready to get the American Revolution to be kicked in gear. **

**-Moon**

* * *

Catherine touched up her hair as she glanced at herself in the decorative mirror that was in the hall before the door. "So remind me again on how I am supposed to address royalty?" Catherine asked as she tried to tuck back any wild strains. Her voice had a bit of a nervous edge.

Dorian held up her cloak for her to wear in the chilly afternoon. "Madame la Dauphine for the future queen,"

"Madame la Dauphine, which is like your royal highness?" Catherine took the cloak draping it over her shoulders. Dorian nodded, "Catherine you will be fine. Just follow Genevieve ques."

Catherine sucked in her breath as she fastens her ties. "I don't want to insult anyone, besides, I am worlds different than them." The grey fabric laid nicely over her dull red dress. "I am sure my accent will cast me outside the norm."

"Don't worry about that, just relax and enjoy yourself tonight, Catherine. I have serious in any doubts you will meet the king or the Dauphin. You will be in the company of Madame Maria Antoinette and her close friends."

Taps of small feet ran down the hall up behind her. Arno stood behind Catherine and Dorian.

"Arno, I thought you were doing your reading." Dorian starred down his young son, who only grin with his hands behind his back.

"I know, but I have a present for Catherine." He held up a single flower, a marigold. "I thought she could wear it in her hair since she is wearing a dress."

Catherine flashed a smile as she knelt down in front of the young child and outstretched her arms, hugging the boy. She gave him a kiss on his cheek. "Your so sweet, Arno." She took it from his fingers as she planted it into her hair.

Charles glanced outside the window to see a carriage pull, "I see that Genevieve is already here."

Catherine stood up from her crouching position. "I will take my leave then, if I am out late, don't wait up for me," Catherine instructed as she fixed the creases in her red fabric.

The young assassin picked up the ends of her dress as she walked. She wore flat boots that were obscured by her gown but were only shown in her actions.

Nearing the end of the path, the coach driver held the door open for the young woman. She gave a quiet thank you in French to the man as she climbed in.

Catherine took a seat across from Genevieve who was peeping on the small home. "So your family owns this home?"

"No, my sponsor does, I live with him and his young son."

Genevieve snapped back at her with a small smile. "I know about the assassins. So is he your mentor?" her voice laced with a heavy French accent.

"Aye, he is. He's been like a second father to me the last few years."

The noblewoman hummed in understanding. "How long have you been in Paris?"

"Four years or so."

On the way to Versailles, the two women who were similar in age spoke on the way. It was a small light heart talk.

Upon arrival, Catherine smoothed out her red skirt as she stood up. The driver opened the door for the two women clad in silk.

"The red looks lovely on you," Genevieve compliment as she walked by the redhead.

Catherine's cheek flushed, "thank you. I should let you know that I am not used to socializing around royalty."

Her laughed echoed like a bell, "It's quite alright, Mademoiselle Cormac. I could guess about your background as an assassin." She said in a lower whisper.

Catherine gave chuckle as she fidgeted with her fingers. "I will just follow your queue then. "

The two women were lead inside the grand chateau known as the Palace of Versailles. Catherine was quiet as heard nothing but the clicking of their shoes while being lead by servants through the expensive halls.

She realized they were being led into the private apartments of the royal family. Only people with special permission were allowed direct access to these apartments.

"What does the Dauphine know about me?" Catherine asked trying to prepare herself.

Genevieve hummed, "She asked me about you and I explained that you were an Irish woman from Boston."

"That's all?" She asked with a bit of shock.

"Sophie didn't tell me much of your background. She only told me you were a skilled young woman who showed empathy towards my situation."

Catherine still fidgeted with her sleeves of the gown as they walked. "I understand. I would have done even without the offer of a reward."

"Speaking of an award, I have the funds ready for you. I was told why you needed it and I find it noble. My Oncle fought in the Seven Year War alongside the natives. He had told me that they received unfair treatment by your fellow Colonist."

"I know...I am trying to buy my friend's land. Terrible men are trying to buy it right from under of the natives, so I am going to buy it first."

Genevieve smiled, "buy it with French money, I suspect you already have an idea on how to transfer French livres to English pounds."

"The universal currency everyone knows, gold. I was even planning on supplying the natives with weapons and other items they would hold with value. I want them to be able to protect themselves from people who wish to hurt them."

The two servants that stopped in front of the two women to open the door for them. Catherine could hear laughter as the door open for the two of them.

One of the servants made an introduction for them as Catherine walked into the room. The noblewoman that stood beside her made a curtsy. The Irish assassin followed suit.

There were twenty or so women with a couple of men sharing drinks in the room. Some were a group at a table playing a game of cards while another gossip about their daily lives.

The room seemed to freeze at the sight of Catherine. The whole room had her eyes on the Irish foreigner. At the moment, Catherine knew it was the mistake of coming to the palace. She wasn't the type to like eyes on her.

A woman stood up from the card table, greeting the two women. Catherine recognized her as the Dauphine, Maria Antoinette. The French princess gave a welcoming smile.

"Thank you for attending, Mademoiselle Cormac."

Catherine crusty again, unsure if was appropriate behavior. "It's my honor, thank you for the invitation."

"It's the least I can do for coming to our aid, without you, who knows what that man could have done."

Catherine smiled as she looked upon the woman, she was around Catherine's age dressed in fine silk. The future queen of France reached with her hand to take a hold of Catherine's arm. "I want to hear all about you and the tale on how you stopped this assassin."

Catherine cleared her throat, trying to not to sound nervous. "As you wish, it's not a thrilling story, but I can fill in the spaces as much as I can."

Maria looked upon the group in the room, she spoke to them in French, introducing Catherine. She stopped mid-sentence and looked over the redhead. "You do speak French, correct?"

"I do, you don't have to speak English on my behalf."

The future queen smiled, "well since you are my guest of honor, I do want to make you feel welcome."

Maria waved for a servant to walk over, he carried a silver platter of drinks. Genevieve took one for herself, Catherine followed her lead, holding the drink in between her fingers.

Catherine wondered what her friends would think back home if they could see her sharing wine with royalty. "Everyone, I want you to meet my savior from the other day, Catherine Cormac. Please make her feel welcome."

The room echoed in applause for the Irish assassin. They were gossiping whisper among some of the nobles, as Maria led the young woman to sit across from her. Genevieve was making conversation with another noble.

"Tell me about yourself, how does an English colonist find herself in France?"

"It's a long story, but to make it short. My mother and I were affected by the raising of the taxes that King George made upon us. We ran a small tavern in Boston, just me and my mother."

Curiosity twinkled in Maria eyes as well as the surrounding noblewomen. "You don't come from a well off family?"

"No, my father was a ship captain during the 7-year war, but he hasn't been in my life since I was a small lass." Catherine painted a story of her simple life in Boston as a tavern girl. She made it sound as if Charles Dorian was a friend of her mother's family. She explained that her mother had sent her to France for a proper education to keep her out of trouble.

Tying off her pretend story, the young woman explained Dorian had given her an equal education. Maria seemed satisfied with the answers given, especially on how she was able to learn how to fight.

"That must have been quite a transformation for you. Going from a simple life to an expensive life here in France," Genevieve spoke as she sat next to her savior.

Catherine took another refreshment from a server. The taste of fine wine was on her lips as she took a sip of the rich wine. It happens to be her second glass to help her relax. "It was quite a bit, but I have learned to call Paris my second home." The whole situation felt so surreal to Catherine at the fact she was sitting before royalty.

The nobles looked amongst themselves as they listen to Catherine's story on what brought her to Paris. The young assassin made a story up how she had discovered the plot about the hit placed on Genevieve's head. No one seemed to question it as she told her tale.

The young woman even picked up on comments that the nobles were making about her. She ignored the rudeness that some of the nobles were displaying to her.

Catherine didn't care that she was ostracized from this social standing. The part of the reason that she came to the small gathering was to form possible allies. Gaining the trust of Genevieve was already accomplished, now she was sitting in front of the Future Queen of France.

Catherine played with her skirt, as she talked with the different nobles. Maria listens as Catherine talked while Genevieve walked over to sit next to Catherine as a friendly gesture.

One of the noblemen faces was a blush red from the drinks he had consumed. "If you use to run a tavern, you must know some of those jolly tavern songs."

Catherine choked on her drink a bit embarrassed, "A few, but I don't sing."

Maria flashed a smile, "nonsense, I am sure you are not all that terrible, we are all friends here."

The redhead pressed a forced smile, she did not want to perform on command and embarrassed herself. "It won't hurt, Catherine." Genevieve reached over to touch Catherine's hand. "I would love to hear you sing."

Catherine's face blush, but a voice spoke up to her a defense. "I am sure Mademoiselle Cormac just want to enjoy her company with us, your highness." A young gentleman spoke up, he was dressed in a blue silk coat while wearing a powder wig. a younger woman stood beside him Catherine could only guess she was his wife.

"Oh, course, we don't want to overwhelm her." Maria smiled, she glanced at the man. "Catherine, this is Marquis de Lafayette and his wife, Marquise de Lafayette. They are newly married."

"Congratulations," Catherine flashed a smile, "May you be blessed in the years to come."

The woman looked a bit shy about responding, but Lafayette smiled. "Thank you, miss Cormac." He turned to bow Maria Antoinette. "My wife is tired from tonight events, we will be turning in early." The aristocrat then turned to the Irish woman. "We would like to extend you invite to dinner, sometime in the next week. I am very fascinated about the Americas and struggles your homeland is facing."

Catherine couldn't help but feel flattered at the invite, "I would gladly accept. I have been keeping up with events back home, in fact, I know of the people who through the tea into the harbor."

He took the young woman's hand to give it a light kiss as a sign of respect and admiration. "Then I like to discuss it more over dinner at our apartment in Versailles. Farewell."

The young couple took their leave from the private apartments. The night went on after the Lafayettes left. Catherine was on her third glass of wine, listening to the upper-class talk. She was near the glass doors that lead to the private gardens. She felt warm from her alcohol intake, some fresh air would be good for her head.

Catherine pushed herself from her seat to leave to the gardens. She stumbled a little in buzzing haze to the door that she gently pushed open.

Genevieve came up behind her, "going for fresh air? Do you mind if I come? I need some fresh air as well."

The Irish woman held the door open for both of them. "Of course, I could use the company."

The two women left the back steps to wander around the garden together. They had managed their way into a private rose garden. It was into twilight. "I haven't properly thanked you for your help yet," Genevieve spoke clearing the air.

"You don't need to, it was part of my job. I have to thank you for your generous gift of money to help my friend's land."

"He's lucky to have you." Genevieve smiled, before dropping to a frown.

Catherine saw the look on her face, "Is everything okay?"

"I am a fool about letting Martian into my life. I was a grieving widow that he précipité into my life. We were married in six months.

Raphael was my closet friend and I miss him every day."

Genevieve's eyes became watery as she spoke about her first husband. The Irish woman walked over to hug the French woman. "I am sorry, you must have really loved him."

"Oui, he was my childhood friend." the noblewoman wiped the tears away before looking up at the kind gesture from the younger woman. There was a whimsical look on the French woman's face. Her blue eyes meet her light brown ones. In the spark of the moment, Genevieve pushed her lips onto Catherine's.

It took Catherine by shock with such a sudden kiss from Genevieve. She froze where she stood at such a stunning action from her. Catherine didn't push her away, she only accepted it. This was the second time she had been this close to someone in France.

Her kiss was sudden but soft. The elegant fragrance of Genevieve's perfume entered her nostrils. There was nothing wrong with being kissed by another woman, but in her heart, she could only think of Connor. Catherine stepped back after the kiss, looking at the French woman. She realized at what she had done.

"Catherine I am so sorry-I-I wasn't thinking." She looked horrified, "please don't tell anyone. My life would be ruined."

Catherine placed her hands on her shoulders then touching her face. "No, no. It was a nice kiss, I liked it, but my heart wasn't in it. I have someone else there."

Genevieve opened her mouth in a gasp after Catherine removed her hand from her cheek. "Oh...your native friend." It was a

Catherine blushed bright red, "Aye. We have been going on in circles due to our duties. Though, neither of us can touch the subject in our letters." The assassin glanced at the woman, "you don't love your late husband in a romantic sense."

"No, we were good friends and he understood my secret. I could only act upon them in the shadows."

"I understand, I really do, I won't say a word." Catherine smiled, "I just hope you can find happiness. If it wasn't for the circumstances, I might considerate, but I miss home. I am ready to return and I miss Connor."

Genevieve smiled, "well, Connor sounds like a lucky man. I wish you luck." Catherine's answer seemed not to affect her. She welcomed it. "Thank you, for giving me that freedom back to have my life."

"Your welcome." Catherine spoke with a smile, "Let's head back in, I am sure everyone noticed that we went missing."

"Agreed." Genevieve extended her hand out, "lead the way."

* * *

A storm rolled from the south of France carried in by the seas. Paris became a victim of its a heavy downpour. Catherine's feet were swimming in puddles of water. Her hood pulled over her head to protect her head and face from the spring weather. Droplets of water rolled down her coat that protected her from being drench.

She made sure her hair was tucked into her hood while made her way to her destination. The Île de la Cité was almost barren from the storm that cascaded onto its streets. In the heart of Paris stood one of the oldest and tallest buildings in Paris. The tallest building in all of France.

Notre Dame was the iconic gem of the city, it stood over 500 years being built back in the middle ages. She admires the twin bell towers of the cathedral with the rose glass that rested between them. She took a second to admire the structure before walking off the steps of the Lady of Paris.

It had been a month since the assassination attempt at the Palace of Versailles. She had stayed in Versailles for the month after the incident where she had become good friends with Genevieve as well as the Lafayettes. She was even invited to the palace of Versailles weekly by Maria Antoinette. She even had the great honor of eating with the royal family. Catherine had sounded like a bumbling idiot in front of the King of France, but it was still a good evening. She had found Maria Antoinette to be native, but a kind person.

A meeting had been arranged for her to meet Sophie Trent to discuss what was next for her. Catherine's time in the foreign country to her dwindling due to the urgency of the needed help that Connor required to save his people's land. On top of this rushed emergency, Catherine was starting to miss her home. She missed the lush greenery and quietness of the frontier. She missed the smell of the sea air that floated in the Boston Harbor.

Most of all, she missed her close friends. James had moved to New York. Connor was still living with Achilles at the Davenport Manor who still wrote to her. Catherine couldn't help but think about the kiss that she shared with Genevieve and compared it to Connor's. She felt guilty for liking it, because of her feelings for Connor. Feelings she was trying to ignore to focus on her mission.

Catherine walked across the marble tiles in the Cathedral. Across the room, she saw candles ablaze in honor of prayer for someone. The young assassin walked over to the stand. Every time she stepped into Catholic Cathedral, she lite one for her mother and father. It was a childish hope that they could be a family again.

She looked upon a small statue of the Virgin Mary before walking over to the pews to have a seat. She wouldn't call herself a practicing Catholic, it was just a way to honor her mother who could never practice it herself. Catherine had a glimmer of hope that her mother was somewhere that she could be able to practice it.

Catherine looked over to glance at the Rose Windows in awe, she could never stop looking at the beauty of them. She also heard the quiet prayers of the people inside the church.

Quiet footsteps could be heard walking across the marble tiles. A hooded figure sat next to Catherine, pulling down the hood. "I received your message," Trent spoke in a low whisper, "Are you sure you want to return to Boston?"

"Yes, I've learned everything I can from the French Brotherhood. I have the amount of money I need to purchase Connor's land right out from under the Templar's noses."

"I like your enthusiasm Cormac, I just wish you stay a little longer since you have had so much progress. Though, the council and I do believe it is time that you return to the Colonials to rebuild the brotherhood. You told us Connor had already started recruiting."

Catherine shook her head, "Aye, he is actually French from Quebec."

"Very good, might I make a small request?"

"Of course," Catherine said. "What is it?"

"We will send you another recruit to you after you get settled."

Catherine raised an eyebrow, "Which novice?"

"William, he is eager to go with you to the colonies, but he is not ready yet."

Catherine nodded, "Sure, send him. We need all the help we can get."

Sophie nodded before asking the last question. "When do you leave?"

Catherine sighed, "This week, I spoke with Charles and everything is arranged for a ship to charted to Boston. Ill is in heavy disguise, so I won't run into any of the Colonial Templars. It will also give me time to have the paperwork drawn up for the land."

"I wish you good luck then, Paris will always welcome you." Sophie smiled, "You should set out to pack and say your goodbyes, the other novices have grown to look up at you."

"Thank you,"

The Master Assassin nodded, "I do wish you to stay, but you have you're calling to take care of business back in your home."

Catherine smiled before leaving she wanted to keep her mind at ease. "Is there any update on the Cult of Kosmos?"

"No, we are still pouring through our records for them. We even reached out to our brothers in Greece to get more answers, but don't worry Genevieve is safe. Martian will not lay a hand on her."

"Thank you, please reach out to me about them when you have answers. They were very interested in me."

Sophie nodded, "I know, we are wary of them especially since they are involved with the Templars."

Catherine nodded before standing up, she took one final glance of the Cathedral, "I do have to say I will miss this building, it is beautiful."

"I know, it has been standing for over 500 years. It does attest to what humanity can build." Sophie replied. "I hope to see you one last time before you leave for the Colonials."


	6. Goodbye and Hello

Hi! Here is another Chapter. I know it's super short, but there will be pretty long ones coming up.

-Moon

* * *

Catherine's eyes laid upon on the ship that would take her directly to the Davenport Homestead. Her heart pounded with excitement that she was returning home, but it was also filled with sadness. She watched her luggage being loaded onto the ship before turning to Charles Dorian. He held onto Arno's tiny hand before letting go, the young boy ran to Catherine to hug her.

"Do you have to go? I'll miss you." Arno asked as his head buried in her coat.

It had been an emotional past few days for Catherine. She had to say goodbye to the people she had come and known in her time of France. Two nights ago, she drank away her night with the novices that she helped train. The younger teens had looked upon the older assassin with much respect.

Though, the next morning she awoke with regret with a hammer racking her skull. It didn't give her much of the day to pack of what little she had gained over the years in Paris.

Catherine had fallen to her knees to give the child a tighter hug. "I know, I'll miss you too."

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before standing up to say her goodbye to her mentor. "I want to say thank you for all you have done for me the past few years. I would probably still be running my mother's tavern without really realizing about what was truly at stake."

"You have Connor and Achilles to thank as well when you return." Dorian moved his chin in a way to hide his embarrassment of her thanks. "You take care of yourself, don't do anything cocky, Catherine."

Catherine Cormac pressed her lips together in a grin, "you know me, I only cause trouble when Templars are involved."

Charles snorted, "that's what I am afraid of."

The younger assassin lingered in front of her mentor before she leaped and gave him a tight hug. "Thank you. I am going to miss you both."

Dorian stood a bit shock with the sudden burst of affection before resting his arms around her back to return the affection. "Make sure you write to us, Catherine. We want to hear updates from you." He lectured her in a fatherly tone. "Your family to Arno and myself. If I had a daughter, I would like to imagine she'd be something like you."

Catherine's heart swelled with happiness. The young Cormac could speak the ship's quartermaster called for boarding. "I guess it's time."

The young woman backed away from the father and son, grabbing her carry on bag strapping it over her shoulder. She waved to them both as she walked towards the ship's plank, the young woman turned around to walk up the plank.

Catherine could hear Arno shouting goodbye and good-luck over the sounds of the seagulls and harbor life. Catherine waved a last goodbye before boarding the ship. For a moment she could have sworn that Charles Dorian eyes carried a weight of sadness, but they were replaced with a vision of reassurance. In that instance, Catherine knew that Charles had faith in her succeeded in her goal.

She prayed that she would see him again someday soon. She looked above her head to see Orla circling the ship before gliding down to her mistress. She landed on a mast above her. Catherine knew that she was tucking herself away for a long journey back home. It was time to go home.

* * *

"FIRE!" Connor order

The cannons roared to life with another devastating blow to the old abandon fort. He watched as the last tower standing crumbled to a pile of rubble. Connor could hear as his crewmen cheered for victory while his eyes study the old fort. The sea captain stepped away from the wheel of his ship towards the quartermaster, Faulkner.

"The fort should not be troubling anyone no-more," Faulkner spoke as he eyed the damage. Bloody English have gone too far this time." He spat onto the ground as to cruse the enemy.

A few weeks ago, Mister. Faulkner had revived reports about raiders causing merchant ships trouble at Martha's Vineyard. Robert brought this attention to Achilles, who wanted to know if Connor would want to investigate into it. The Assassin took the mission to distract his mind. Connor was waiting for Catherine's arrival from France, he felt impatient for her to arrive.

"That is the problem. What reason would the English have to threaten Martha's Vineyard? It has no strategic value and its people remain peaceful. I fear the influence of a different kind saw to this." Connor's mouth filled with distaste.

Faulkner huffed, "Templars, bloody bastards."

"But what they intend, I do not know." He humbly put, his mind swayed to Catherine, maybe she could help place the pieces together.

"Your orders?"

"I need time to put these pieces together." Connor breathed to make a decision, "Set a course for home,"

"Aye." Faulkner walked with Connor to the helms to chart the course. "Want to be in a hurry to get home to Catherine, before she does? How long has Cormac been gone?"

"Close to four years." Connor hummed, "It will be good enough to see her again after all this time." In his mind letters were not enough to hear from her.

The journey home took only a week, Connor sat alone in his cabin to write notes in his captain log. Though the seas were not his major focus with the Templars, he still wanted to keep track of what was happening. He was deep in thought about what the Templars want with the east coast.

The war wasn't in full swing, but it seems that the Templars were preparing for it. He snapped out of his own thoughts when was realized when he heard the orders to the dock of the ship. He tucked away from the journal in his desk. He hung up his captain coat to change into his normal assassin robes. He was anxious to see if Catherine had made her return.

The journey on foot was swift back to the Davenport manor. Connor had changed back into his normal assassin robes as he entered the home. He walked upstairs to his room when he dead stopped in front of his door to only notice Catherine's bedroom door was ajar. A sense of happiness filled him as he stalked towards the room and opened it to notice new luggage and trunks lined the room.

He couldn't believe that she was home already. The native assassin jogged out the room downstairs to find Achilles. The older gentleman sat out back on his porch with his cane tucked neatly under his palms.

"I was wondering when you'd return." Achilles spoke as he gripped the cane.

Connor was unsure what to say, "Where is she?"

Achilles chuckles. "She took off early this morning, I imagine she wanted to stretch her legs after being on a boat for close to 2 months. She got in late last night and didn't bother to say hello before taking off in the early morning.

Connor smiled, "I will go find her."

Achilles waved his hand towards the native asking for peace and quiet. He knew how loud Catherine and Connor could get when they were around each other with their consent teasing and running.

Connor took to higher ground above in the high pines. Focusing on his surroundings, he turned on his eagle vision. There was no sign of the Irish woman just a herd of deer down below. He scanned the area for any signs of the young woman. Striking gold, he saw the area near the deer disturbed. Scaling down the side of the tree, spooking the small herd towards the opposite direction. He could see tread marks that made a path towards the high cliffs where a waterfall poured from a river. It was one of Catherine's favorite place on the property.

As he neared the waterfall with the pool, he could hear a bell-like humming noise. As he came upon the open clearing, Catherine saw under the shade to beat out the midsummer heat with her sketchbook. Her sleeves were rolled up with her coat and bag near her. Catherine's auburn curls were pulled back into a sloppy bun with a couple of strains falling from the binding. He just watched her back as she worked in her notebook, he wasn't sure if he should disturb her. A moment passes before she snapped her notebook shut placing it in her bag before standing up.

She took a pause after she stood up from her spot, turning her body slowly to face Connor. A smile was plastered across her face before striding towards him. Catherine broke out in a light jog to him, taking a leap she tackled him a hug laughing.

"It's so good to see you again, I've missed you." She stepped back and looked at him. "You've bulked up." She squeezed his arm a little. "You're built like a bear. I am surprised the lasses haven't come calling."

Connor chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck. "You look good too." The native man looked embarrassed.

They had both heavily matured in young adults, leaving behind any childhood features. He watched her as she untied her sloppy bun, her curls cascaded down onto her shoulders. She had grown an inch or so taller since he had last seen her. She wore fine clothes showed that she had lived a life luxury in Paris. He took notice as she pulled her coat back on, even though it was a masculine fit. She looked sharp and dignified in it.

"Thanks, I feel like a mess though. I wanted to spend some time away from people after I got in. Living in a city like Paris for four years gets to you."

"I can only imagine, I was overwhelmed about the size of Boston, I can't imagine what it's like in a place as old as Paris."

Catherine reached over to take hold of Connor's arm. She interlocked her's around his. "I've gotten every letter you sent me, I managed to take a look around the property and you've done amazing work with the people living hear. They won't stop talking about you. I feel like I hardly missed a thing that went on in this place." Connor took hold of her bag to carry for her as they walked. He didn't mind being so close to her.

They made a causal talk on the way back to the manor, Catherine stopped to laugh as she told about the stories of her time in France. Connor could only listen and smile as he listens to her laughter. "I had to get up 4 hours before sunrise every day for a month after I broke protocol with the other novices."

Connor could only watch her talk and smile, he had nothing more to say to her. He only listened to her speak about her experiences, not interrupting her story. "I wish you were there Connor, I really have missed you."

"I've missed you too. Only letters do so much." Connor said as he met her eyes. The tension was felt between the two of them, the words they mentioned in letters could not be said out loud. Both of them embarrassed.

"I know, Connor, we talked a lot about us." She sighed as turned to face him. Catherine grasped his hand firmly, "We have plenty of time, but I want to help your people as well as the many tribes that will be affected. William Johnson and the other Templars have been too quiet for so long for them not to be scheming."

Connor's heart swelled at the amount of work Catherine had put into protecting his people. She was striving to help people she never met. "They have been too quiet, what do you purpose?"

"I want to meet with William Johnson."

"Catherine, no, that's risky."

"It's alright, the Templars will find out that I am alive sooner or later. I have an idea to reach out to Johnson without alerting the other Templars." She reached into her bag for her journal, "I've been studying my father's letters to me..." flipping open to the page she was working on, it showed copied signatures that read.

_Shay Cormac. _

Connor took the book from Catherine to look over the copied signature. It was impressive. "You're going to meet with him under the guise that he thinks that he is meeting your father."

"Aye, so it won't alert Haytham or Lee. No one knows where my father is, not even the Templars."

Connor nodded, thinking the plan would work. "Where would you met with him?"

"Somewhere not far from here, his estate is right on the edge of John's Town. So I am thinking to set up an arrangement in a tavern near there, a short notice so he does not have time to reach out to anyone."

Connor touched her shoulder to plead with her to reconsider. "I ask you not to do this. We need to talk to my people, I don't trust him and he can hurt you."

Catherine opened her mouth to ask him to reconsider the idea, but she saw how he pleaded with her not to go. "Fine, we will try it your way. I want to try to do this without bloodshed...Johnson is good man, unlike the others, he might listen to reason."

"If it comes to it, we can try it your way." Connor suggested, "For now, let's not worry about it. We can ride out to my tribe tomorrow."

Catherine nodded, "alright, for now….I need to unpack and enjoy some food. I am starving and food is garbage on a ship." She smiled showing her teeth, "let's head back." The young woman took a glance around before leaning to Connor to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. It stunned the native assassin to his spot, "I'll race your arse back to the house." She spoke quickly before taking off in a quick run.

"Catherine!"

Catherine laughed at the confusion that Connor displaced as they ran back to the manor.


	7. Surprise Guests

William Johnson never liked surprised visitors in his own home. Especially with a notice of a few days ahead, it gave him time to prepare for this visitor, he even sent his wife into town with their oldest son.

As he walked downstairs to greet the man that stood in front of him. The older Irish gentleman notices the Templar cross pinned to his upper coat collar. Johnson studied the younger man in front of him. A glint of arrogance twinkle in the man's eye as he stood there full of pride and smugness. William guesses that the man was to be in his early 30's with darker features that lead him to theorize the man was either Greek or Spanish.

"Martian Pronovost?" William asked as he outstretched his hand to shake.

"Yes, I do apologize about the short notice of my arrival but I am afraid my subject matter is only a few days behind me."

"You didn't speak of why you wished to speak to me, only that it was urgent."

Martian outstretched his hand suggesting they should go somewhere else. "I like to discuss why I am here then."

Johnson gave a crud short nod, he led the younger man into his personal study. Johnson offered the man a drink, he tried to get a sense at what kind of man he was while keeping his guard up.

Martin shook his head no at the fine brandy before taking a seat in the chair. "I've been in Paris for the last few years doing work for my branch of the Templar Order in Greece. I ran into someone who left me in quiet of pain, so I thought it is fair to warn you all."

Johnson took pause to try to comprehend who he was talking about. "Who?"

"Catherine Cormac,"

Johnson froze from where he stood, "no, she's dead." He tried to correct the other man. "Apparently not, the woman has been living in Paris for the last few years training under the assassin brotherhood. She is headed back to the Colonies with a goal in mind to purchase Native Land right from under you."

"How could she possibly survived?" Johnson whispered to himself.

When he had heard the news about the young girl's death, he was saddened for his brother in arms. The man had lost so much in that year. William's heart even sank at the fact that Catherine was dead. He had come to know the girl from when she was a small child, she was a curious, kind-hearted girl. The death of Azura was still fresh on everyone's mind even after four years. The event had been a downward spiral for Thomas Hickey.

Johnson wasn't sure what to say, only to take a seat at his desk. Martin strolled across the room to lean on the expensive wood. "She has masted a fortune and will be acting in the coming days to buy the land you were trying to take."

"We are buying it. for the natives own good to protect them from the outside. They can still live on the land, but they will be protected."

"This her misguided attemtpt as well. She thinks that harm will come to the natives under Templar protection."

William hummed in irritation before reaching for parchment and ink. "Our funds are practically gone, thanks to the Sons of Liberty to protest taxes."

"Well, I can help, I have a large sum of money that I can help with."

William looked slightly surprised at the offer, "what do you want in return?"

"Catherine Cormac, her and I have some unfinished business to attend too. This way, no one will have to know that Catherine is still alive and I can take her back to Europe."

William watched the younger man before him, wondering what kind of plot that was held for the younger girl. For now, he would have to agree until he could find out more information. "Very well,"

"How soon can you arrange meeting with the native tribes of this land?"

"Possible within a week,"

"Very well then. I will be staying in John's town until I hear back from you."

William watched the Greek Templar collect himself together before leaving the older man. Johnson took a moment to write a letter address to Haytham Kenway. William prided himself in hope's that he could talk to the young woman before anyone else. He held no trust towards the man that just stood in his office moments ago.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx3333xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The stench of horses never bothered Catherine Cormac, in fact, she rather enjoyed it. She found the creatures rather enjoyable. The dark mare relaxed as the redhead was brushing her down. The tail swayed every time Catherine reached up to scratch under the horses' chin. Catherine compared the animal's behaviors close to a dog's which she quite enjoyed. The animal's name was Socks due to the four white socks around her ankles.

Catherine gave Sock one last brush down before saddling her up for the journey to Connor's village. The young woman reached into her coat pocket to feed the beautiful animal a rich green apple. Her fingers touched nothing but fabric, the empty pocket surprised her a bit. Catherine realized she left the apple on the kitchen table along with a small pack lunch for her and Connor. She decided to pack a small meal for both of assassins, knowing that the journey was half a day's ride to his village.

"I'll be back," Catherine smiled as she petted the horse's long face. She walked out of Sock's stall before heading back towards the Davenport Manor. Rolling down her sleeves as she walked she hummed a shanty tune.

"Catherine, I see your fitting back in comfortably." Achilles spoke up as he sipped on morning tea.

The young assassin turned around to face the older man. "Achilles, I didn't see you there." Catherine pushed her hair back behind her shoulder as she took the packed lunch and apple into her bag. "Connor and I were about to head out."

"I've heard…"Achilles placed his teacup down, "How was Paris? I heard some of the older assassins gave you a rough time."

Catherine snorted, she could still remember her early days in training with Pierre Bellec. "Aye, but I got over it. Bellec wasn't that much to handle. In fact, it was much easier to get under his skin."

"You sound like your father with his arrogance."

Catherine huffed, "Achilles, I am tired of being compared to him that's where so many of my troubles began for me."

"Though, they did place you and Connor in charge of rebuilding the brotherhood. Dorian spoke with much confidence about you and your capabilities on taking such a task."

The look on Achilles' face humored Catherine in a way. He saw the irony in her leading as much as she did. Connor and Catherine's fathers were major roles in the Templar Order. Now, their children were destroying what they had built to achieve.

"The irony of it all." Catherine tightened the strings on her bag as she spoke. She stood their quiet for a moment, unsure what to say to the old man. She had hardly said a word to him since returning to the homestead.

Achilles arched his eyebrow at the young Cormac. "Child, is everything alright?"

Catherine's mind reverted to the truth she was told about the assassins trying to kill her as a child. She could never find the words to ask such a question about her past. She glanced towards the man with brown eyes.

"What happened when I was three? With my Uncle?" Catherine asked, hanging the dirty truth to hang out in the open.

Achilles sighed as he placed his teacup back on the table. "How long have you known about this?"

"Since I left,"

Achilles raised an eyebrow, "you have been holding onto to this knowledge since you left four years ago?"

"Aye…My father told me you and Liam the were behind trying to kill me."

"I never signed off on that. Your uncle was all in that. He had been the one to recruit Jeanson on his mission to harm you."

"Just because my mother wanted to keep her family together."

Achilles pushed out a chair with his cane to extend a seat for the young woman. "I may not understand your family dynamic." Catherine crossed the room to take a seat to face the older man. "Though I trust your mother did anything she could to protect you. I don't agree with what Liam and Hope have done to you either. Just as you don't agree with what I have done in the past." Achilles tapped his cane on the wooden floors to make his point. "I would ask if this changed your mind about the cause. Yet from what I've seen, it's both you and Connor that is leading the charge against the Templars."

"I just wanted to hear the truth from you." Catherine gnawed at her inner cheek as she listened to him talk. "It just causes hesitation to talk to you about my family history. Knowing I was once target in the eyes of the brotherhood for just who my parents are."

A blind man could see the tension that was between the younger woman and the old man. Neither one said anything to each other for a solid minute.

"I will warn you caution though, whatever you have a plan that is against the Templars. I doubt a large amount of money will keep the Templars away."

"But it will keep Connor's land safe. That is my first priority."

The silence broke when Connor's footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs, dressed in his assassin robes. She flashed him a smile as soon as he came into the kitchen, the tension faded from the two.

Out of nowhere, a loud clash could be heard coming from the front door like someone had just barge in.

"Ratonhnhakéton! Ratonhnhaké ton!" A man cried out. Catherine stood up recognizing the name, they were calling for Connor. She followed Connor into the main threshold of the house where a Native man around Connor's age stood.

Catherine asked but Achilles shushed her for a moment. "Who is it?"

"Kanen'to:kon? What has happened?!" Connor rushed to his friend while Catherine watched the two.

Catherine realized that the man who stood before her was Connor's old childhood friend he had told her about.

"William Johnson has returned with all the money required to buy our land!" Kanen'to:kon looked helpless as he pleaded with Connor. "He is meeting with the elders today. I have begged them to resist, but I fear he shall have his way unless you intervene."

Catherine gritted her teeth at the news, "How the hell did he get the money so quickly?"

"I do not know, but we will need to act fast." Connor said making eye contact with Catherine.

The young woman clutched her knuckles, "I am headin' to Johnson Hall, I think its time for me to make a counter offer.'

"The Templars are nothing if not resourceful. You should have heeded my waning. Catherine going up there face Johnson will be suicided."

Catherine saw the conflicted look on Connor's face watching his friend plead for his help. She didn't take a second longer before running upstairs to her bedroom where a lock chest laid with gold she had purchased. Taking few items of wealth and sticking them into her bag. She ran back downstairs where the two natives were waiting for her.

"I am going to go up to the estate myself to see if I can put a stop to it. Connor, I want you to wait for me. If I am not done with the meeting with Johnson, I want you to come in and kill him. I'll have Orla give the single." Catherine explained to her. "I don't think they will listen to me, but I can try to get this done without bloodshed. He knows me from when I was a child."

Kanen'to:kon glanced at his friend with a concerning look, speaking in Mohawk. Catherine could only understand a few words between them. He asked Connor if he trusted her in which Connor replayed he did.

"This is Catherine, the woman I told you about."

Kanen'to:kon eyes widen when he realized who Catherine was, "This is her? The one that worked on buying our land for us?"

"Yes, we can trust her."

"Very well then. We must hurry, we can sort out the details later."

Catherine nodded, "I hope this works." She sent a silent prayer to the lord as she walked out of the house. She pushed back her hair over her shoulder as she headed to the stables to hurry to Johnson Hall on horseback.


	8. Hostile Negotiations

**This was a long and fun chapter to write, over 4200 words! I am excited about this. I hope you guys enjoy it! I really hope to hear from you :) Review and Follow! Plus you can follow me on Tumblr at Master-Assassin-Moon. **

**-Moon**

* * *

Connor approached the rocks that overlooked the river, "Is that his property?"

Kanen'tó:kon nodded, "Yes, Johnson Hall is just across the river. The water is well guarded, Ratonhnhaké: ton."

The native assassin could see the people walking along the water. They were armed with muskets, keeping an eye out in case to see if anyone would disturb the sale.

Connor was already planning a route for him to get to the meeting without being noticed. He was just waiting for Catherine's single, he decided that he would get a closer look.

"Wait here, I'll be back."

Kanen'tó:kon nodded, "Be careful," he watched his friend take off running across the fallen trees and dive into the water.

* * *

Catherine's thighs hugged Socks side as the mare galloped hard down the road towards Johnson Hall. Her teeth gritted as she gripped onto the reins tightly as she listened to the thundering hooves of her horse. Catherine prayed that she would not be late for the meeting. Catherine had known where Johnson Hall was from a location on a map she found amongst her mother's things. The assassin just hoped that she would be at the estate before anything gotten out of hand.

Catherine pulled the horse's reins to a stop, she could see a guard patrolling the dirt path ahead. The young assassin could tell that these men were Johnson's men from the way they were armed. Taking action, she climbed off the back of her mare. She slapped the behind of the horse to only watch it take off running in the opposite direction of the property. She trusted that the animal would find her way home. Pulling up her hood in a slow fashion, she darted to the bushes to hide from the prying eyes of the guards.

The assassin did not want to cause alarm before she got to the meeting. Pulling herself into the trees above, she concealed herself into the leaves of the trees. She crouched like a lioness as she lept from branch to branch. None of the guards could see the deadly woman above them. As she neared the wooden house, she could hear William Johnson talk to the natives. His thick Irish accent carried over the forest, Catherine could recognize it from the time she spent around him as a child.

She slipped through the trees through the bushes, sneaking past a building. The natives from the confederation of the tribes were sitting in half circle in front of William Johnson. She counted the armed men that were watching the natives argue their rights over there land. Catherine felt sickened by the situation at hand.

There she stood as they talked, the natives were arguing amongst each other whether not to sell or not.

"Brothers, please! I am confident we will find a solution." William Johnson spoke out towards the men.

The leader of the small group of the natives, he looked to be the elder. "We are not your brothers."

Johnson outstretched his arms in annoyance. "Do we not seek the same things? Peace, prosperity, fertile land."

Catherine watched the Elder and the Templar go back and forth. Johnson sewed lies of false hope and protection for the land, she could not stand by any longer to listen to him. She stood up from her hiding spot and marched out towards the meeting.

The guards that were lazing about until they saw the fiery redhead. "Oi! Stop right there." One shouted at her, but she pushed the man away from her.

Johnson and the natives adverted their eyes towards the assassin. "This is a private meeting, who the hell are you?"

Catherine stopped before the Templar, standing mere feet away. "I'm surprised you don't recognize here." She pulled down her hood showcasing her fiery red hair and dark eyes. "I mean, the last time you saw me I was much smaller lass with my hair in ribbons. I spent the summer here as a child."

"Lil Catherine Cormac…I thought you were dead."

"You all did,"

"Even your own father?"

His words cut into her like a deep knife when he spoke about her father, she kept a stoic face as she listen to his words. "It doesn't matter what everyone thought I was dead, I didn't come here to announce myself,"

"Then why, girl?"

"I came to speak to them." Catherine glanced over towards the group of Elders. "I came to purchase their land for their own protection. I have the help and aid from alleys who want to see that these people to live safely on their own lands without any disturbance."

William Johnson look surprised at the response from the younger woman. It seemed laughable to see her have such high bidder.

The Elder pointed at Johnson, "You seek land, true enough. Land that is not yours, nor any person's." He shot a glance at the younger redhead. "Child, I don't know what you can offer us. We don't even know you."

"But I do know of you. I am good friends with Ratonhnhaké:ton from the village of Kanatahséton. We have been working on a plan to keep your villages safe ever since we heard Johnson was trying to buy it."

Another native stood up from the half circle. "Ratonhnhaké:ton and I hail from the same village. He is a good man with a humble heart that has set out to do what is right by our village. I can vouch for him."

William Johnson crossed his arms over chest. "How would you afford to keep these people safe, Catherine? I don't doubt your good intentions, but your unwed woman with no family ties, or backing. You don't have the power or wealth to keep these people safe."

He turned to take look at the Natives. "There are those who would betray and manipulate you…Or worse yet ….take the land by force."

"We are all too aware of the expeditions your people send against us."

The Elder took a glance at the younger woman, there was a look in his eye that said that he wasn't referring to the colonist. But to the Templars, who were trying to gain further look into the land.

"What do you mean, my people? We are all ONE! We should act as such!"

Catherine could remember Johnson as being a man that was calm and collected from when she was a child. Now she saw an aging man who was losing his temper. His cheeks turned to a hue that match his dark red clothing.

"How? By signing our lands over to you? Then we'll be as one which will be in your debt forever!"

Another Native spoke up to give doubt to Catherine's cause. "Sir William may have a point... What hope do we have against their black powder and iron? If we do sign over our lands, I do believe he would be the better choice then the woman."

A few others spouted options on the sale of the land, some argued for Johnson while others waived in favor for Catherine. Others just refused the sale of the land.

"Peace. Peace!" He called out to speak over the loud conversation, "She is just a child that has no experience with this sort of matter, but have I not always been an advocate? Have I not always sought to protect you from harm? If we all come together, I am sure there is something that could be worked out. Including you Catherine, you have the right heart, but I am afraid you are just naïve."

Catherine gritted her teeth at the fact he was talking to her like a child before she could speak up in her defense, the head Elder spoke over. "If you wish to protect us, then give us arms. Muskets and horses that we might defend ourselves!"

"War is not the answer!"

Catherine marched forward, pushing her hair from her eyes again. She met eye to eye with the native, "I can promise that.I have contacts and allies in wealthy places that can arm you to protect you from outside forces."

"And who would that be?" Johnson asked smugly.

"Some French Noblemen that owe me some favors, but I do have some other allies in the shadows that do not wish to see you or allies to succeed."

Catherine gently held out her wrist to showcase her hidden blade, the metal of her blade reflected in the light. She could see the fact that it clicks in Johnson's head that he knew what she was.

"I can make sure you are protected," Catherine said

"So, can I, I can make sure you're protected."

The Elder adverted his head back towards Johnson after hearing the words from Catherine. "We remember Stanwix! We remember you moved the borders! Even today men dig up the land - showing no regard for those who live upon it. Your words are honeyed but false." The Elder put his foot down towards Johnson. "We are not here to negotiate, nor to sell. We are here to tell you and yours to leave these lands." He looked back towards Catherine deeply. "I am sorry, girl, as much as your intentions are pure, we just don't know your intentions personally."

"I understand, but I hope in time you can understand where myself and Ratonhnhaké: ton, are coming from, I want to make sure your land is safe."

The elder took a moment of pause as he studied the young woman's face. All was silent besides the noise of the breeze blowing in the wind, much like the calm before the storm.

"We will think about your offer."

Johnson let out a long irritated sigh with a disappointing scowl directed towards the natives and Catherine. "So be it." He raised his hand towards his armed men. "I offered you an olive branch, and you knocked it from my hand." The guards raised there muskets towards the natives and Catherine. "Perhaps you'll respond better to the sword."

"Are you threatening us?"

"Yes. I am."

Catherine rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, "Don't do this Johnson."

"If that girl moves, shoot her." Catherine could hear the sound of click from musket that was behind her. She turned around quickly to face the man that held the musket. Her eyes widen when she saw the man. "Martian…I left you for dead in Paris."

"I know, love, but here am I." He cocked a grin at the young woman.

Catherine glanced back Johnson then back at Martian. "This how the Templars gained money to buy the land after the destruction of the tea."

Martian shrugged, "I just would not move girl."

Catherine clinched her jaw until she looked up at the sky, she saw Orla circling above them. The woman stood there for a moment reaching out to her winged companion. She reached out in a connection towards Orla. Seeing through the eagle's eyes, using Orla as an eyeglass, she looked for any sign of Connor.

He was leaping through the tree branches, gaining ground closer to the house. Connor was one solid leap from the house with his tomahawk at the ready.

She came out of her vision, knowing that death was close upon William Johnson. She wanted to try to reason with him one last time. "Johnson, please, don't force these people to give up their home to you."

"You don't have a say in this Catherine, I am sorry this has gone this way. If you know what's best for yourself, you will stay silent."

"Here I thought you were an honorable and kind man from what I remember as a child."

"And you are still a child, a selfish one at that."

Catherine felt his words stab her like a knife, she knew he meant about the situation between her and her father. Shay Cormac still believed that she was dead, she knew it would be wiser to not reach out to him.

"Don't do this."

Johnson ignored her one last request. "If anyone leaves, shot them."

Martian reached out to grabbed Catherine's arm. "I warn you, let go, or you will regret it. You might escape this unscratched this time."

"Oh don't worry, I know I will… with you."

His tone of voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She knocked hand away and aimed her hidden blade at the man's neck with the dart pointing at its target. She was ready to pull the trigger.

In a single moment, from the corner of her eye. Connor lept from the roof, landing hard on William Johnson. He hit a single blow on the Templar, ending his life. In the brief moments that followed before the chaos that erupted, she saw that Connor was talking to William. Johnson spoke his final words to his killer.

The look on Connor's face showed what Catherine's felt. They did not want to come down to killing Johnson, but the man left no choice for the two assassins.

Catherine turned back around to face Martian, the man vanished from her sight. "Fucken arse," she cursed. "Connor!" She saw Johnson's men erupt into chaos, starting to firing shots and attacking the natives. She pulled out her sword and ran her blade through one of the guards.

One of the natives were already wounded from an altercation, he helped the man up. He noticed they were highly outnumbered. "Catherine, we need to leave now!" He darted across the yard towards Catherine, she waited for him to approach her. They took off running together with h the guards chasing after them. Catherine realized they were headed to the edge of a cliff, she realized what they had to do.

She took a deep breath before leaping from the edge with Connor, performing a swan dive. The assassins were engulfed by water, in a moment, Catherine had her eyes open frantically looking for Connor. Her lungs burned for air as soon as she spots him, he swam to the surface. Catherine escaped to the surface, letting her lungs fill with air.

Catherine headed in the direction of the shoreline. She crawled onto the shoreline, she laid in the dirt and grass with Connor following behind her.

She wheezed for a few moments before rolling on her back. She took a moment to realized what happen. "Catherine," Connor rolled over to look at her. "Are you alright?"

"Aye, today has just been full of surprises."

Connor crawled over to her, "Who was that man?" He sat up on all fours as he caught his breath.

"Someone who is suppose to be dead…" Catherine sat up looking at him. "Are you okay?"

"I am, are you?"

Catherine nodded as she shakily breathed, Connor reached his hand to sweep a strained of hair from her face. He touched her cheek, "I was worried about you, I should have not allowed you to go alone."

"You were worried?" She teased with a grinned, "I am just fine. You saw, I marched right in there and stood up to a Templar."

"I know."

Catherine sighed, "I think we can still help your people to protect their land."

Connor felt touch at the lengths that Catherine went to help his people. "We can try to see if they will go for it, but they might."

Catherine spoke with hear leading thought. "They said they would think about it….at least buy your village land so your home is safe. I can have my name on it then I can transfer it to you-" Connor leaned into a kiss, Catherine was stunned to say at least from his jester. She didn't know if it was from all the excitement from escaping, or for the work she had pushed through.

She didn't fight it, but she kissed him back, pulling away. "We need to head back, find Kanen'tó:kon."

They heard someone clear their throat, interrupting their moment. He had a sly smirk on his face as he looked down at his friend. "I take it Johnson is dead." He made a comment in Mohawk, Catherine could only pick up a few words, but it was teasing Connor. She chuckled when she saw his cheeks turn to a rosy pink.

"Aye, though, I tried pleading with the man to back off from buying the land. Connor was the one that laid the killing blow." Catherine stood up with the help of Connor. "Now, I like to get out of these wet clothes."

Connor nodded, "We can set up a camp not far from here."

/

Catherine chuckled as she listened to Kanen'tó:kon told stories of his and Connor's adventures. She listened to the tale of how Connor rescued him from a bear. Her sleeves were rolled up with her hair rolled up in a bun with a stick holding it in place.

"Well, you two sound like you've been in quite a bit of trouble." Catherine grinned as she took a bite from a cooked rabbit. "Reminds me of the time, when your dear friend here fell of his horses' saddle when it was spooked by its own shadow. The saddle wasn't even buckled right."

Kanen'tó:kon smiled, obviously glad to know he wasn't the only one to make foolish mistakes.

Connor threw another log on the fire, both of there coats were drying over the fire. Connor and Catherine sat close to the fire, drying their clothes. Catherine watched fireflies danced off in the distance from the three.

"As much as I love this lounging around, we will need to think about what we plan next. For now, your people's land is safe, but there could be a wave of an attack on your home." Catherine study both of them.

"With Johnson dead, they won't have any interest in the land." Kanen'tó:kon pointed out.

"But they could. I already spoke with one of the elders before Johnson died, they may want to talk to us about it. We would just have to wait and see if the Confederacy reaches out to us."

Connor and Kanen'tó:kon nodded in a humble agreement. Connor's old friend stood up afterward, "I will be returning back to the village now. To inform everyone of the news."

Connor stood up to give his friend a shake and tight hug, "It's good seeing you again, Kanen'tó:kon."

The native gave one last look at Catherine before he left. "Thank you, Catherine, it was nice meeting you."

She smiled. "You too,"

Catherine watched as he walked away into the woods. She glanced at Connor, he had been quiet, making minimum answers. "Are you okay?"

"I am, I watched your plea to Johnson to stop. I waited to see if he would subside and let everyone walk away."

"I hoped so too, he was kind to me as a child. I lived with him and his family for a month when I was 7 years of age…looking back now, that was a lifetime ago."

Connor touched his cheek where a faint scar kissed his face. "I want to let you know, he wasn't kind as you think…He was there the day my village burn down. He knocked me out with the butt of his gun. Though out of all the men that were there, he did sound the kindness…though, the worst of men can have a touch of kindness."

"I can understand that." Catherine stretched, "I think we should stop dwelling on Johnson. I do want to mention something though…Do you remember about that man I mention that I thought I killed in Paris?"

"The one that tried to kill his wife?"

"Aye…He was there today, I was ready to kill him, but I lost him in the chaos. I think he told William Johnson that I was alive. Johnson did not seem that surprise."

Connor went to his coat and dug out a letter from his pocket. "I found this on Johnson after he died. It's addressed to my father." Catherine reached over to grab it.

She tore the seal and read it. After a moment of soaking in the words. "It's a letter stating about information about Martian Pronovost, William is informing Haytham to not trust a word about this man. It goes on further about how I am alive….I think Johnson knew I was alive, he wouldn't be much longer." Catherine growled as she folded the letter. "This is going to cause trouble for us. I did not want the Templars to know I am still alive, that was the one advantage we had. They will see us coming with Pronovost still alive, he is going tell either Haytham or Lee."

"We will track him down, but for now you will need to keep your head down."

"How? Become someone else?"

Connor shrugged, "Maybe? I mean, you look already different with your hair tied back."

Catherine laughed, "I could chop all my hair off and pass off as a man for a while."

"It could work."

"I am not going to hide who I am, Connor. I am a proud woman, I will not hide." Catherine laid back on the ground. "I just don't want them to see us coming."

Connor laid down next to her, "I don't think they will, I think in all of the confusion and chaos today, no one will find out that you were still alive."

Catherine looked at the pooling brown eyes as he stared at her. "Why did you kiss me?"

Connor reached over to grabbed her hand. "I-I don't know...I guess it was just relief."

She smiled with feelings swirling in her eyes. "Well, I am glad you did. Though, next time, we shouldn't share such a kiss in front of your friend, so he wouldn't tease the hell out of ya."

"Like when?"

"How about now?" She reached over to kiss him softly, peeking him on the lips.

Catherine knew that it would be foolish to listen to her emotions in a time of such great importance. She then remembered when Dorian had told her to take a step back and enjoy life. Don't let a life of an assassin ruin her personal one.

* * *

Charles Lee sat as he listened to one of the survivors of the massacre. Music could be heard below the wooden floorboards. The two men sat in a private room in a tavern right outside of John's Town. Charles had just arrived yesterday with Haytam for Willaim's funeral. The Grandmaster was already at Johnson Hall speaking with Molly Johnson about her husband.

As the second in command listen to the Greek man., He took note as the guard describe the altercation of one of the natives killing William Johnson during the meeting. Taking the land by force was what the Templars wanted to avoid, but due to unforeseen, Johnson was now dead. He hated to hear one of his brothers were dead from the incident, he had seen a lot of good men die. Johnson was the saddest.

Charles was about to set off for Johnson funeral and to greet his sorrowful widow and family. He wanted to pay his respects to a man that he was proud to have fought alongside him for many years.

The man that came to him with the news of William's death was named Martian Pronovost. He had a thick Greek accent that said he was an old friend of Johnson. Charles found it odd but decided not to question it.

"There is one more thing, a young woman tried to purchase the land right from out under Johnson."

"Who?" Lee asked with a raised eyebrow of concern.

Charles had a flash of vibrant red hair come to mind with a young woman with the maiden name of Cormac. "Redhead Irish woman with a loud mouth…though by the look on your face, you know the person."

Lee eyes widen, "Did she say her name?"

"No, but Johnson did. Catherine Cormac."

Charles Lee stood up so fast knocking back his chair to the floor. "How is that wretched bitch still alive?"

"Smart girl, I ran into her while I was doing work in Paris, she left me near dead. I came here to finish her off. I would not worry too much of it. In fact, you would not even have to tell your Grandmaster about it."

"I would have too,"

"But would the girl still live, or be around if you do? I know what kind of history she has with the Colonial Rite."

Charles paused for a moment, thinking about the type of connection that Catherine shared with her father and the Grandmaster. Charles Lee hated to admit it, but Haytham had shown weakness when it came to the younger Cormac. Maybe it was to the fact she was just a child, but Charles Lee would not allow it.

"Do what you must just get rid of her," Charles said backing away from the man. "I must leave for the funeral. If you fail, I don't want it to get back to the fact I knew she was still alive."

"The redhead vixen won't be in your life much longer."

The Templar gave an icy stare towards the man, "She better not." He exited out of the room, not realizing the true intentions of Greek man.


	9. Return to the Tavern

Hello!

Here is another chapter! It's not my best one, but I am not sure. Please review! Tell me what you all think.

-Moon

* * *

The weeks that followed Johnson's death was a blur for Catherine. Herself and Connor were hard at work to gain the support of the natives to gain native land legally. A lot of the natives refused the sale, Catherine understood, unlike Johnson, she did not pressure the issue.

Though, Connor had managed to speak to the village elders and the Clan Mother to allow Catherine to own legal right to the land. Connor was able to explain on the behalf of Catherine that by owning their land, no one would be able to step foot on the native's land without her permission.

After the signing became legal, Catherine felt the chance to relax for the first time since coming back to the Colonies. Though, the one thing she had on her mind was that Martian had made his way to the colonies. In seeing him on the Johnson estate, she wanted to track him down.

Catherine sat by herself to think about what was next. Boston was erupting in chaos from the Boston Tea Party and the blockade that blocked the harbor. Samuel Adams had called for a boycott of any English goods, but it was only a matter of time before violence broke out on the streets again.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing behind her. She sat out on the porch of the Davenport manner, Connor approached up from behind her, tapping her on the shoulder.

She glanced up at him with a gracious smile, "Ello Connor," She patted the spot next to her.

Connor walked up to her to take a seat, he sheepishly glanced around before pressing a kiss to her cheek. Catherine pushed him away with a giggle, "We can't let anyone see us."

"Why not?"

"Do you think Achilles would let us sleep in the same house?" She chuckled.

Connor smiled, "He already knows, I had gotten quite a talk from him."

"A talk?" Catherine raised an eyebrow, "What did he say?"

The native assassin shook his head, "He is worried that it would affect our work."

"I have to admit, I have some concerns too." Connor raised an eyebrow, "But, we can work through this." Catherine patted his arm with a small smile.

"Agreed…I have a letter for you. It arrived yesterday while you were helping Myriam with her hunting."

Catherine took it from him, "It's from James…" She tore the seal of the letter.

"What does it say?"

Catherine scanned the first few lines before glancing at Connor. "There is going to be a meeting in Philadelphia it shall be known as the Continental Congress. It's going to be a group discussion on how to respond to the British government's coercive actions. He is going to be there with Samuel Adams…They want us to attend."

"No, they think me as one of their own. You should go for yourself."

Catherine folded the letter nicely, stuffing it into her pocket. "Then I will. I just need a day to prepare."

"At least let me take you by ship."

"You just said you did not want to come."

"I still can take you,"

Catherine small smile, "You just want to spend more time around me…"

"It could be that…I mean I have not seen you in four years."

Catherine smiled as she listens to his words. "I appreciate that Connor but I will just go by horseback, I don't you to be suck into this unless you want too."

"I'll stay here, besides I need to help prepare for the arrival of Warren and Prudence."

Catherine could remember when they stumbled upon the couple struggling against British troops. Half of their livestock laid in puddles of blood and the earth was ruined where nothing would grow there. After aiding them, Connor offered a place on Achilles land to live in peace in exchange for trade of their goods. Connor took in assisting Terry and Godfrey of building a barn and proper home for the couple. The red hair lass looked forward to greeting them once she returned from Phildiphea.

She stood up from the steps, "I better pack for the journey." Catherine placed both hands on her hips looking over the dirt road. A moment of silence, she thought back to when she last visited the city. A phantom pain throbbed in her side where a musket ball was once embedded into her skin.

"Catherine?"

She hummed in response turning back to face the native. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Aye, just thinking about the last time I was there. I was shot by my own best mate then woke up on my father's ship."

"Maybe you shouldn't go to then…"

Catherine waved her hand away, "No, its just nerves with being back in the Colonies that's all. I haven't even been back home yet. I am supposed to meet Samuel Adams in Boston and we are going to travel together to Philadelphia."

Connor saw the agitated look on Catherine's face, he slowly stood up and walked over to her. He outstretched his arm to take her chin gently, catching the woman off by surprise. She placed her hand gently over his wrist while he gently pushed back the copper-colored locks. He leaned over to gently pressed her rose-colored lips. Going from an uncertain look to a wide smile that showcased her teeth.

"I'll be back in a few weeks, Connor." She pulled away from his hand. "I'll send a letter with news about the outcome of the Congress." She stood up from her spot. "I shall get provisions ready for the journey. I am going to leave at dawn."

Connor stood up, towering over her. "Alright, I'll let Achilles know you are leaving."

"I promise, I won't get shot this time." She touched his arm with a reassuring look.

"I will hold you to that."

/

The Boston Neck was a familiar sight for Catherine Cormac. She could not remember the last time she crossed the gates into the town. She missed being amongst the crowded streets, she was careful to keep her hood pulled up. She would hope no one would recognize her since everyone presumed she was dead. Dressed in her assassin coat, she was sure that no one would recognize her. She had her hair tied back into a loose ponytail. She was wary of any of her red hair would peak out.

Looking upon the cobbled streets and brick buildings, she remembered the feeling of home. Catherine could roam the streets blindfolded and would know of the directions towards her home. In quick haste, she kicked the side of her horse to make it to Samuel Adams home before nightfall.

She turned down Winter st where the house lied, she climbed off her horse, giving him a quick pat. She tied the reins of the animal around a post. Landing hard on the ground, she dusted her coat before strolling towards Adams household.

A woman of color open the door, she recognized her as Surrey. "Master Adams is excepting me. I am Catherine Cormac."

"Of course, come this way, Mistress." She held the door open for the Irish woman. She took down her hood, she turned her head at the sound of footsteps. James appeared out of the living room, she had to take a double look at her friend. James Quinn had grown a beard.

"Catherine!" He ran over to give her a tight hug. "I am relieved to see you don't smell of frog."

Catherine chuckled as she squeezed her childhood friend in return. "Don't be dath, James. They don't just eat frogs….They eat snails too."

"It's good to see you had not changed." His green eyes light up with joy. "Now, I want to hear about everything."

"I am pretty sure, I explained everything in my letters or you just like hearing me talk out of my arse." She hit his arm and smiled. "Where is Adams?"

"Follow me," James grabbed a hold of her hand and led her to the study. Samuel was leaning against the window looking out onto the streets. "Sir, Catherine is here."

Samuel looked at young woman, "Catherine, it's good to see you lass. You look well for someone who is supposed to be dead."

Catherine chucked a laugh, "So, no one suspects me? Not even after I bought a huge plot of land."

"I do admit it was risky. Some of the Aristocrats of Massahuttes are curious as to who bought such a large amount of land. All they know it's a mysterious young woman who may, or may not had a hand in William Johnson's death."

"Good, let's leave it to that. So far, the Templars have not caught wind that I am alive."

Samuel eyed Catherine for a moment, "I have to admit, I am a little surprise that it was you that showed up and not Connor."

Catherine shook her head. "No, he had business attend to back on the Homestead."

"Alright, but I am just a bit concern a young woman would not find interest in politics or would be welcome there."

Catherine felt her lip twitched at the rage that boiled inside her, but she knew that Samuel's concerns were justified. She took a deep breathe of sigh. "No worries, I understand, I just find it ignorant that it women would not be allowed to have a say in the climate of the changing nations."

"I am sure it would all be fine as long as you keep your head low. "

Catherine spoke with a laid back tone. "When do we leave for Philadelphia?"

"In the morning, we can't leave the city by ship, but I have arranged for us to travel by carriage down the King's Highway." Samuel spoke up, "I suggest turning in for the night, so we can set out early in the morning."

"Aye, it sounds like a good plan. I need to find room for myself tonight."

"Don't worry about it, Cathy. I had two rooms booked for us at the Green Dragon Tavern."

Catherine nodded, "Alright,"

"Very well then, I will see you both in the morning in front of the Green Dragon." Samuel Adams walked the two to the door. "Right before dawn,"

"Thank you, we will see you then."

James patted Catherine's shoulder walking out with her. "We should heading to bed."r

"You go on ahead. I want to take a look around…I will meet you at the tavern." Catherine touched his arm.

James blinked in surprise but with a quick nod of understanding. "You want to see how Boston has changed."

Catherine nodded, "Yes, I want to see the Snowdrop Tavern."

"Won't people recognize you?"

Catherine gave a grin before pulling her hood covering her auburn hair. "Remember, I am an Assassin. My job is to hide in plain sight…Let me work." The Irish assassin walked off, leaving her oldest friend behind.

With night clouding over Boston, the streets were empty besides a few stragglers that roam the streets. Catherine dragged her gloved fingers across the brick buildings as she walked. She could sense Orla's presence in the area, high above her the moon cast the shadow of her wings.

Being home was an odd feeling especially since everyone thought that Catherine Cormac was dead. Catherine knew that her own gravestone was next to her mother's grave. Both of them empty, no one was the wiser of that existing knowledge. Not even her own father, Shay Cormac.

Catherine kept her hood down until she reached the street of her childhood home, right in front of the harbor. She could see light shining through the windows with the carrying sound of music could be heard.

Life was indeed alive in the old Cormac home. Catherine paused in front of the window to see a whole bar full of patrons. She recognized a few from the old days when both mother and daughter ran the place. She saw an older gentleman in his late forties wiping down the bar.

It dawned on Catherine that her father must of the sold the place. She did not blame him though, there were so many painful memories in the old building.

Catherine pushed her hair back deep into her hood in hopes no one would recognize her. She pushed open the tavern door and made her way to the bar. The older man looked up at the younger woman, "How can I help ye, Lass?" he spoke with a thick Scottish accent.

"Can I have a whiskey?" Catherine asked.

"Aye," he poured the amber liquid into a small glass before passing it to her. "Are you passing through, I have not seen you in these parts before. "

"You can say that…I actually grew up in Boston." She took a sip of the bitter liquid.

"Really? Been gone long?"

Catherine nodded making small conversation, trying to get a better understanding of the man that bought her mother's tavern. "I've been in Paris for the last four years…I actually knew the family that lived here, Rose Cormac and her daughter."

The Scottish man paused before sighing, "That is a sad story. The poor sob that I bought it off of lost his wife and daughter within in 8 months of each other."

"I heard…"

"He was a generous soul though, he sold the place to me cheap. Just a few days after I stepped off the ship from Scotland with me' wife and children." The older gentleman pressed a sad smile on his lips. "He had a broken heart, but he wished me all the happiness in this place with my family."

The Irish and Scot made small talk about each other lives.

Catherine listened to the man talk of his fortunes since securing this place of business after his hardship in Scotland. He fought in the Jacobite uprising back in 1745, he was under the clan McKenzies. He escaped the battle of Culloden and managed to make a three-day journey back home. He had been lucky enough not to be caught by British soldiers, or he would have been shot.

He spent hard years of hardship after the failed uprising, he had felt the brunt of the British mistreatment. He decided to take his wife and children to the Colonies for a new life. It was not easy for the man, but here he stood after close to 30 years of hardship.

Catherine's story was not as fruitful as his, she had made up a story about having a wealthy uncle that took her in after her family died of smallpox. She was traveling around the colonies to find her own fortune after living in France for the past few years. Catherine felt that was a good cover story enough for her.

Two hours of conversation past for Catherine, she did not realize the time until she happened to notice the patrons of the tavern were leaving for the night. Her own eyes felt droopy from her day-long journey into Boston. The tavernkeeper glanced at tired eyes.

"Listen, if you need a room tonight, I have a spare bedroom I can rent out."

Catherine's ears peeked, she knew that she had a room at the Green Dragon Tavern even with her horse there. James had was kind enough to take her horse to the stables near there. Catherine pressed a smile on her lips. "Thank you, that's kind enough for you to offer."

"You look like you had a long day, come, I'll introduce you to my wife."

He gave an order to barmaid to keep the patron's orders filled while he was upstairs with his guest. Catherine followed the man up her childhood steps, her fingers traced lightly under her fingertips. He held the door open to allow her to enter into the upstairs apartment.

Nothing had changed in the upstairs residence, the furniture was in the same exact spot. Nothing had changed besides the family that lived in the old tavern. Catherine could see the old chair that sat in the living room. She could still remember sitting in that chair as a child, sitting in one of her parent's laps.a

A woman working in the same kitchen that Rose use to cook what felt like a lifetime ago turned to look at her husband.

"Iain, I see we have a guest."

"Aye, this is Catherine, we are lending out the back bedroom."

Mrs. McKenzies turned around wiping her hands on her apron. "Looks like she's had a rough journey, poor lass can hardly keep her eyes open." Se walked up to the younger woman, touching her shoulder. "Have something to eat before you turn in for the night." The woman looked at her husband. "Go ahead head back down to the bar and finish up for the night."

Iain smiled at his wife before peeking her on the cheek, "I hope we can talk more in the morning."

"I apologize, I will be leaving for Philadelphia in the morning. Though, you can expect to see me around Boston more often."

"Well, then, Mistress Catherine, it was lovely to meet you." Iain smiled before walking downstairs.

The woman went into the kitchen to fetch a small bowel with a slice of bread. "My name is Jenny. You're from Boston?"

"Aye, lived here all my life." Catherine glanced around the room. "Your husband said you had children?"

"The wee the bears are asleep, we share a room with them so we can earn extra money to rent out the room."

Catherine reached into her pocket, "Your husband didn't mention the price."

"3 pennies,"

Catherine reached into her pocket and placed them onto the counter, "times are rough, eh?"

"Yes, I am afraid so…" The Jenny sighed, "We spent every last coin we had to get in the colonies."

She glanced around the untouched apartment, Catherine listened to her talk as she ate her stew.

"Where did you use to live?" Jenny asked she caught Catherine looking about the place.

Catherine did not realize she was starring about the place, she cleared her throat as she took a bite from the stew. "Not far from here…"

The older woman caught through the lie, Jenny placed both of her hands on her hips. "Are ye sure about that, lass?"

Catherine gave shifted side ways to look before meeting her eyes. "I ask you not to repeat this to anyone…"

"I swear to you girl,"

Catherine took a deep breath, "My name is Catherine Cormac, I use to live here with my mother."

The woman mouth widened in awe, "I thought you were dead. Your father said that,"

"Aye, I know, but he I had to leave town in fear for my safety." She glanced back at the woman, "No worries, you are not in danger with me here. Everyone still thinks I am dead."

"Why are you here then?"

Catherine did not know the full reason why maybe she was just curious about the condition of her home? The young woman was silence for a few minutes before glancing at her. "I just wanted to meet the family that was taking care of my mother's tavern." She gave a small smile. "I think she can rest in peace knowing that our home is good care."

"Oh dear, I am so sorry I can't imagine what you must be going through."

Catherine shook her head no, "It's alright. I've recovered and live happily on the frontier." She finished the last few bites of her stew. "I am doing work that gives me purpose."

Jenny flashed a small smile at the younger woman, "Well," She reached back into her pocket and grabbed Catherine's hand. She placed the money back into her hand. "It would not be right to charge ye in your own home."

The woman waved her hand for Catherine to follow. Catherine didn't hesitant before following the woman to the back rooms where she took a flimar turn into her old room.

The walls were still the light pink, but the walls repaired were the chipping had started. All of her things were gone, even her drawings. Her old bedspread was replaced, but her old bed frame was still there with her furniture.

Catherine's heart swelled at the sight of her old bedroom.

"Listen, I know it's not much, but I do have some of your old things packed away. I had them stored in case your father would still want them."

Catherine nodded, "I don't know if I require any of it…"

The woman paused for a moment, "if you are sure, I can keep it here until you require anything."

"Thank you." Catherine smiled, " I will turn in for the night. I have a long journey tomorrow to Philadelphia."

"Goodnight, miss. Cormac…Don't worry I will not tell a soul." Jenny shut the door behind her.

Catherine sat on the bed, taking in the moment of being home again. She pulled off her coat, folding it in half. She brushed her fingers through her hair one time before kicking off her boots. Catherine blew out the candles that lite up the room before laying down for the evening.

Within moments, she drifted off to sleep feeling at home.


	10. An Unwanted Guest

The first few weeks were consumed in discussion and debate. The delegates from 12 out of the 13 colonies were intertwined in distrust from one another. Georgia could not be in attendance due to the fear and uprising of the Creek at their border. Georgia requested aid of the British troops. This was a symptom of being their own Independent colonies.

Catherine watched the presenting arguments made by the delegates. James and herself sat at a table in the back table, as a guest of Samuel Adams. Though, it was admittedly clear that she was not welcome due to her gender. Many of the men in the room saw that women did not belong in politics. Sam Adams argued that she was there to an observer. The president that oversaw the congress, Peyton Randolph, agreed to allow James and Catherine to be seated in the room.

The younger Cormac was making small conversation with a few of the delegates before the start of the next session. One of which she was a pleasant conversation with, a Virginia Delegate by the name of George Washington. Catherine clasped her hands in front of her skirt as she talked, she explained that she was here for support of her colony of Massachusetts. She was a proud supporter of the work of the sons of liberty.

She listened to the man talked about his military career during the 7-year war. Catherine nodded as she listened to him talk. She glanced over his shoulder at the other delegates around the room. James was in the corner talking to Samuel Adams and John Adams. Master Washington stopped in mid-sentence to look across the room.

"Another delegate looks like has arrived, though I thought everyone had arrived." Washington hummed.

Catherine turned around to see who was the last to come. A pit dropped in Catherine's stomach when she saw the navy blue coat with the matching tricone hat. Catherine knew her jig was up, she had place all of her plans. They vanished in smoke and

She wonder if the Grandmaster of the Colonial rite was there for her or for the Continental Congress. Catherine straighten up to stare at the Grandmaster. He only stood a mere few feet from her. He seemed surprise to see her as much as he did. Catherine's eyes peered into the older grey eyes.

The tension broke with an eruption when announcement of the start of the session. Washington saw the look of the young Irish woman, "Miss. Cormac, shall I tell Master. Quinn that you will be joining us today?"

There were questions on to find out why Haytham was here. It was obvious he and the other Templars supported the British.

"We talk, now." He grasped her arm family, Catherine didn't have time to protest as the Grandmaster pulled her out the building.

"Unhand me," Catherine finally found her words as

Haytham swung the younger woman in front of him, pushing her hard against the brick building. It was out of sight from any prying eye. "I will not hear any lip from you, Catherine." He unleashed his hidden blade showing he was threatening her.

The Grandmaster could end the young woman in a blink of an eye. Everyone is already that she was dead, so it would make things easier. Catherine took a firm grip onto his wrist that held her in place, "I would suggest you unhand me. It would not be very pleasant for you if you are caught with a young woman screaming in your grasp."

A cynical grin spread across his thin lips almost to say that he had outwitted the assassin. "I Can slit your throat before anyone can answer your cries for help." He said, "Though, I am surprised that someone with your training would resort to such tactics."

Catherine frowned at the man, "What do you want, Kenway?" She spat with venom.

"I was curious, first I heard of a young woman purchased native land right after William Johnson's death. She even had the insolence to trespass onto Johnson's homestead and bargain with the natives."

The young assassin suddenly felt foolish, what she had done had been brazenly brainless. She had imagined that she was awful clever for buying the land in her name and not in a pseudonym.

"You thought you could fake your death and sign your name on a deed of land. A woman purchasing land brings gossip." The Grandmaster chided like the small child he had known her as. "Oh, not to mention that you being guest of Samuel Adams at the Continental Congress adds to the gossip. You are not very skilled at hiding in plain sight." He pushed the young woman back as he let her go. "What are you doing here, Catherine?"

"I came home to help," Catherine put it plainly, "Purchasing the land was in favor of a friend. No one will threaten his land again."

Haytham stepped back away from her clasping his hands behind his back as if he was in thought, "my son."

"Aye, his land." Catherine cocked as she placed her hands on her hips. "With the money that I earned while living in France." He knew he would question her finances.

"To train with the assassins." It was more of an accusation than a question.

Catherine did not deny it, "If you think I am here to disturb your plans….it depends if you disturb mine. I rather not deal with you, or lee." She turned her cheek brazing her thin white scar to Haytham.

The well-dressed man seemed inclined to ask about her scar when he chose not too. "Does your father know you are alive?"

Catherine hid the look of guilt poorly, "no, it's easier this way in case if I do die." Her eyes flashed back towards the Templar Grandmaster. "I imagine you did not come all this way to kill me, did you?"

"Don't feel special girl. I was here on my mission. But imagine my surprise when I came into town when I heard that you were here."

"So you investigated,"

"I was on my way here anyway."

Catherine felt suspicious of him. "Why?"

"I want to make sure the congress is successful, I am investigating to see if I can dispel rumors of interruption of the Congress."

That caught Catherine's interest, "Someone intends to halt the proceedings."

"That's what I just said, girl." He rolled his eyes with tired sass. "Someone intends on killing a few of the delegates to grind it all to a halt."

Catherine was surprised that it was in the Templars interest for the Congress to processed. "You don't agree with the British?" She asked.

"No, the king is an idiot. We need Congress to have proper negotiations with the British." Haytham put bluntly, "I had one lead, I came here to see to investigate it further, but instead I run into you."

He had the type of tone that sounded like he wished Catherine was the last person he'd see. The Grandmaster was thrust upon knowledge of the young woman's life. After Catherine's funeral, he kept an ear open of any word of the possibility that Catherine could be alive since there were no remains found. He had rumors of red hair woman of Irish descent working closely around the Royal Courts of Versailles. The Grandmaster concludes at the time it was possible that the girl could still be alive and fled to France. His theory was confirmed when he saw a copy of a deed of the land that was purchased under her name.

Seeing her in front of him, she was adorned in linen brown dress. From what his grey eyes could see, she had posed no threat to the Templar. If it was not in the middle of daylight, she could be easily disposed of.

"You are only looking for an opportunity to slip your hold onto the Congress."

"On the contrary my dear, a few of these men are already pledge to the order."

Catherine folded her arms, her wish was that a solution to be solved before war broke out between the Colonies and British. "So, you're here to make the Templars position was not to be threatened."

"Yes, though, it seems like our interest a line for once."

The assassin crossed her arms over her chest, "How can I trust that you're telling the truth?"

"You would already be dead."

There was no lie about that. "Fine…I want to come."

Haytham looked puzzled at the idea of the young assassin to tag along with him, but he thought about it for a moment. "Very well then, you do exactly as I say, girl."

"No, we work together, I am not a child you need to tell what to do." Catherine barked looking at Haytham's smug look.

"You choose a childish choice." Haytham said, "Meet me in the Black Cat Inn tonight," He want to turn his back to leave, but stopped. He studied the young woman for a moment, "Tie your hair back too, it will get in the way,"

Catherine made a disgusted noise in her throat as she stepped back from him. "Fine, I'll meet you tonight, but I can't promise the last request."

With that note, the two went their separate ways.


	11. Two Sides of a Story

**Sorry for the long update, I can't believe I haven't written anything in close to 5 months. I am so drained, so I apologize for that. It probably feels smashed together, so sorry about that as well. Thank you guys for your sweet comments about my update about what was going on in my life. I love you guys and your so awesome. Please read and enjoy, also don't be afraid to review, I love reading what you guys have to say. **

**-Moon**

* * *

It was late, Catherine could not close her at the late hour of the evening. The young assassin could not sleep wither it was the aggravation of dealing with the Contential Congrees. The delegates could not make up their minds about what to do about the British. The sleepless night could even be played to the fact that she had made contact with the Grandmaster for the first time four years.

She suspected it was the latter of the two, hearing about what he had to say to her gave her no insight of interest after the conclusion of speaking to him.

It was more then likely a trap, she thought, one that could honestly get her killed if she was not careful. For what he could say, it could all be a lie about the danger towards the congress.

After a sigh of defeat, she forgo any hope that sleep would come to the young woman. She decided that a proper drink would dull senses to help her sleep. The Irish lass rolled out of bed, she was in nothing but a long white nightshirt. She went over to her trunk where she had a change of clothes she brought with her. The young woman pushed her white shirt into her pants, tucking it in like a puffing shirt. With slipping her boots on, she knew she just needed a pint of a drink.

Catherine slipped out of her room into the hall, she could hear the soft mummers of the patrons downstairs. She could see that James' room light was on. Catherines did not wish to disturb her friend with her thoughts. She walked quietly downstairs to the tavern.

Catherine chose a table far from the other patrons so she knew that she would not be disturbed. The young girl who helped her uncle run the tavern. She was a young girl of 13 who had lovely brown curls that were pulled back in a ribbon at the top of her head. Catherine gave her a small smile before ordering a whiskey.

The young assassin tapped her fingers on the table as she was deep in thought. It was ostentatious for the Grandmaster of the Colonial rite to be coming through those doors at the Carpenter's Hall. How had he known that she was back in the Colonies? She meant to keep a low profile, but it occurred to the red hair girl that she did cause a commotion at the sale of the Natives land. Where William Johnson had met his end by the hands of Connor. A trained assassin who Catherine realized was much like his father from what Catherine sensed. They were two totally different people personality-wise but had a flair for surprises.

A strained of her red hair fell in front of her face. It was a loose ringlet that was thin enough to hardly be seen but still announced. She tucked it away from her face when she came to a thought. Much like most trades like merchants, or tailors. Most children take after their parents trade. It was a pre-deposition that all families faced when it came to the trade of the family. Catherine could still remember all the late nights her mother sat with her, teaching her the trade of running the inn. She remembered the sleepness she had in her eyes after a long day of work, complaining to her mother about wanting to go to bed.

Her mother just smiled and said she would need to know this one day if she was going to run the tavern. Instead of being a tavern keeper like her mother, she was like her father in his younger days. Taking up the mantel of the creed. Now he was a Templar and Catherine was having no plans of following her father's line of work. Maybe it was just fate to be in this line of work. Connor, his father, and grandfather had found their way into the life of assassins and templars.

Catherine's thoughts were distracted with a light thud of the pint of ale. She gave a slight nod to the barmaid before she picked it up to take a sip. She swallowed the bitter liquor, feeling it burn her throat on the way down sending warmth to the pit of her stomach. She decided she wasn't going to dwell on the thoughts of Templars anymore. The young assassin was just going to turn in for the night and head back to the Davenport Homestead first in the morning.

The tavern was filled with drunken laughter few of the patrons were making side-eye looks at the lone women. While picking at the wooden splints from the table, Catherine caught the eye of an older gentleman who looked quite amused at her. He grinned broadly, showing a row of rotten teeth. He pushed up from his table, stumbled from having too much liquor. Catherine avoided eye contact with the drunk while his eyes were fixed on her.

As he grew closer, Catherine could smell a horrid stench, she couldn't decide if it was his body odor or his clothes. Possible both. The young woman shielded her face with a face with her hand, pretending not to see him. Catherine wishes to not make conversation with the drunkard.

"Ello love, would you like company?" His breath almost made Catherine gag.

Turning her head away from the foul stench, "Sorry, I don't need the company." She held her breathe avoid smelling the man.

"oh come on lass," He leaned on the table until he reached to grab her wrist roughly. "Ye need company." The drunkard yanked the chair that was next to Catherine, the stench was hardly stainable at this moment. She tried to slide away from the man to stand up to return to her room. "Come sit on daddy's lap."

Catherine went to rip her wrist away from his hand, she had planned on giving the man a strong kick to the groaned. A vile look of disgust traced over Catherine's face as she gritted her teeth and tighten her knuckles until they were glowing white. "Fuck off." Catherine hissed at the drunkard. The young barmaid looked wide-eyed at the sound of the crude language. The man did not bat an eye at the foul language, he only grinned.

"Aren't you a little cheeky." The smell of liquor flowed like an airing gas from his mouth.

In a strike, the man gasped of pain as he was slammed on the table face-first from a figure from behind. Catherine jumped back in shock, she cast her glanced from the wailing drunkard up the hand and following the arms-length to who it belonged too. The young assassin was locked on focus Haytham Kenway as he was able to use his hand to hold the down the man while grabbing onto the man's coat.

Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she couldn't help but wonder how the Grandmaster had found her so quickly.

"I don't appreciate you speaking to this young woman in that manner."

Catherine furrowed her eyebrows in an angry arch. "I don't need your assistance."

The Grandmaster ignored the younger woman as he pressed on, "You will apologize to her." Haytham replied smoothly in his aristocratic voice. His navy tricorn hat shielded his cold grey eyes from her view.

In just those few words, he had captivated the man's attention and silenced his shouting. A chilling roll was sent down Catherine's neck, causing her to realize how calm and collected this man could be.

In an odd moment of timing, the young assassin was able to see the family resemblance of Connor in Haytham's face. Haytham's wrist ejected his hidden blade pointing at his neck. Though, Catherine had never seen Connor carry the same mannerism as his father.

The man gave a tugged, trying to free himself from the deadly grip of the Grandmaster. "Alright, alright!" He pleaded as his eyes darted back and forth before he locked them on the redhead. No one had been paying attention to the spectacle besides the young barmaid, who covered her mouth in shock at the sight.

"I am sorry lassie! Now tell him to unhand me!"

"It's fine," She glared at Haytham. "Let the fool go. He's already pissed his pants."

The evidence of the statement was a dark blotch spot on his trousers. Haytham knocked his head hard onto the wooden surface. The man slid off the table into a heap on the floor. Two of his friends came over to assist the drunkard to stand while he was escorted out of the tavern. The barmaid quickly stepped away from the table to give the assassin and templar privacy.

"What the hell was that, Haytham?" Catherine hissed, "How did you'd know I would be here?"

The grandmaster gripped the back of a chair that was across from Catherine before taking a seat in it himself. "I did that out of respect for your father. It would have been discourteous if I had not stepped in."

"You obviously have no idea whats it to be a woman in a tavern." Catherine took the pint in front of her to drain the last of her drink. " Haytham took the spot across from the young woman, she had a risen eyebrow towards the Grandmaster. "How did you know I was going to be here, or where I was staying?"

"You are not hard to track down, girl." He looked irritated at the fact he had to find her instead. "You can not follow simple instructions, can you?"

"Well, I did not want to meet you because frantically I don't believe it," Catherine explained plainly wriggling in her nose in annoyance. "How do you know you're not lying?" There was a stare-off between her and Haytham. Staring into his icy grey eyes, she knew the truth. She made a snort of disgust before speaking again. "It is. There is no plot against the delegates, is there?" Catherine asked as she sipped on her pint. "Are you just waiting to take me out back and slit my throat?"

"You aren't very inconspicuous about how you live your life, Catherine. I heard the stories of how a young Irish woman from Boston had saved the life of the future queen of France." He paused with a smug smirk before pressing on. "Or how about you purchased a bulk of land for the natives. You may be smart in your assumptions, Catherine, but you do not know to lay low." Haytham said as he clasped his hands together and set them gently on the table. "Though you are correct there was no plot. I wanted answers."

Catherine rolled her eyes in a defiance fashion, "I owe you none after what Charles Lee put me through back in Boston."

"He told me you had murdered Azura." Haytham locked eyes with the younger inexperienced assassin. As if he was trying to dig deep into her soul for a sign of an answer.

Catherine gave a solemn look as a shudder was sent down her spine as she thought about the Persian's woman death. "That was an accident on the stairs." The young woman touched her cheek, tracing the thin scar that she was given from that night. She could still remember the sting from the dagger as it slid across her cheek. "You should know your men condone rape of a young woman," Catherine said darkly.

Haytham blinked in disbelief before he could ask. "Oh, don't worry, Hickey was at least nice enough to put a stop of it before it took place. I do feel bad about the whole situation because she was trying to help me." Catherine looked down at her empty pint.

"How did William die?"

"I don't know…I was there, but I didn't see what happen amongst the chaos." Catherine lied. She didn't know if Haytham believed it or not. "Look I bought the land as a favor for a friend so that he and his people would not be harassed." Catherine tucked her hair back, at least she was telling a part of the truth. She did not want him to know of Connor, it was bad enough he had already known that he exists, but at least he knew well enough to leave his estranged son alone.

"I am going to ask this once, Catherine. Don't mistake this for empathy. Go back to Paris, now." He went into his coat to withdraw charter information for a ship that was leaving for France. "Everyone still thinks your dead and it's better to leave it like that."

"And if I don't?"

"You will be dead, but this time no one will actually know you were alive."

Catherine gritted her teeth, "I know you could actually attempt it, but really? I am not some terrified little girl and I can hold my own."

"I am sure the French Brotherhood has taught you a thing or two, but that does not mean you can face a tenured fighter."

The young assassin stood up to tower over the older templar. "I don't care, I'll do what I like. You stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours. I just want to help my home and friends, it has nothing to stop your plans. I want us to break away from Britain," Catherine said the last part quietly but still with the same spite.

Haytham glanced with a disapproving frown. "You should leave the colonies, Catherine. I am saying that because I care for your father as a long-time friend and associate."

The young woman found it odd his tone softened at the mention of the shared relationship between him and Shay. Catherine became quiet and somber thinking about her father. "How is he? My Da."

"I haven't seen him in over a year, but I do get regular letters from him. You, young lady, have absolutely destroyed your father." He said in a disproving tone.

"I know…Not everyone can witness their own funeral."

Catherine remembered the icy Boston morning where her own funeral had taken place. She hid her face in disguised her face with a hood. The young woman was far away to not be noticed, but close enough to see the look across his face. It was heartbreaking to see, she had never seen a man so broken before.

"I didn't want it to be like that." Catherine glanced down at the parchment. She slid it back to Haytham, "You and your inner circle is not going to run me out of town. I have things to take care of here." She pushed herself up from her seat.

"You should be more cautious about who spend your time around, Catherine. Especially since you have such a close relationship with my son."

Catherine narrowed her eyes at him, she slammed her fist on the table. "That so clever to come from you. You really don't care that your right-hand man burned down Connor's village and was the reason his mother is dead."

There was no trace of an emotional change, he still kept his cool greys eyes locked on the young woman. "Tell me, how many sides of that story do you know of that?"

"Connor told me what had happened to him and I believe him especially after what happened in that warehouse. Are you going to try to defend him on that?"

"I am not going to sit here and make excuses for a situation that I was not aware of. Though, I will say that one of your delegates that you admire. What do you know about George Washington?"

Catherine turned her back to Haytham, "I don't want to hear about this."

"He had ordered the command to attack Connor's village during the Seven-Year War with the French and Indians."

Catherine froze in her spot, goosebumps crawled up her arms and neck. There was a moment before the younger Cormac turned away from Haytham. "You can see yourself out and pay for my drink. I am leaving in the morning, but not on that ship."

Before the Grandmaster could say another word to the young woman, she stormed upstairs to her small room. In the back of her mind, she could not let loose the words of what Haytham said to her. Was that the full story? Was Connor going after the right man?


	12. Last Day of Peace

**Hey guys! This is a long chapter, very long. Now I do warn you this chapter does have some adult content in here, it might be pushing a bit to the rated M side of things, but not by much. I really hope you enjoy this chapter it's a bit of a filler, but leading up to the revolution. This chapter is more focus on more on Catherine's and Connor's relationship. Tell me what you think please, PLEASE REVIEW AND FOLLOW :) **

**Much Love, **

**Moon**

* * *

The Davenport homestead had welcomed a light rain which was not unto common. Thankfully, the new year sprung without any further incident. Especially, after the powerplay Haytham, Catherine had this encounter with herself. She did not want to worry James or Connor about it.

Haytham had tracked her down and demanded she leaves for Paris. In his haste, Haytham had already secured a vessel for the four-month journey. The young lass had outright refused, even going as far in throwing the paper back into his smug English face.

Catherine had concocted a lie to explain to James that it was crucial she needed to return. She managed to tell a story about an urgent matter with Connor. James had inquired about tagging along with her, but she declined the offer. She had to spin a tale that it was important that he stay behind to keep an eye on the negotiations. The blacksmith only gave a simple nod, not questioning another second of it.

Catherine had gathered up her belongings and had hired a coach to take her back to the homestead. She was drowned out in her own thoughts about talking to Connor about his father. In the end, when he came out of the house to greet her with a smile of delight and tight embrace, she decided against it. There was no need to bring Connor into Haytham's manipulations, or lies.

Other thoughts lingered about the Templars as well. It has been months since Connor had assassinated John Williams. In the very moments after the assassination, he was able to recover a letter from Johnson's body. In the letter, it held Pitcairn's orders of destroying any supplies the patriots had.

Between the news of the Continental Congress, the trouble with Haytham, and the threat of Pitcairn; it kept most of her time occupied. Though, this one of the days as she had decided to take a break from the turmoil in her life. It has been close to one year since Catherine returned to the colonies. So much has happened in that year's time since returning home.

Catherine licked her finger as she turned to the next page of the novel she was reading by the fireplace. It was a French novel that Master Dorian had sent to her from France as a gift along with an assortment of French poems. He had expressed in his letter to her that he wished for her to maintain her practice of French. Her former master had sent it as a birthday gift.

Catherine sat on the cushion love seat with her legs tucked under her skirts and a thin blanket. Orla's head buried under her wing to cleaned her underwings as part of her hygiene. She sat neatly on the perch on the fireplace in the main room. Achilles was down the hall in his room already turned in for the evening. The old man had made a minor complaint of his joint acting up from the cold weather before going to bed.

Catherine's ear perked at the sound of Connor moving about in the kitchen in the other room. The native was preparing the rabbits he had caught earlier in the day. The Irish lass had offered to make a stew out of the hares if the native had dressed them for her.

The young woman quiet enjoyed the simple peace and quiet that the homestead held on days such as these. It made her life feel a bit more normal. It caused her to forget the duties of being an Assassin and the colonies on the verge of civil.

Catherine's eyes began to feel strained from looking at the printed words for too long. Taking it as a sign that it was time for a break, she snapped the book shut and placed the book on an end table next to her. Feeling the pricking numbness in one of her feet from sitting on it too long. She took a moment to allow the blood flow to come surging back to her foot. Taking a few paces with a slight limb, she had eventually felt all feeling came back to her foot. Walking towards the kitchen to see Connor's progress.

The pink muscle of the skin rabbits gleamed under the lamplight of the kitchen. She glanced over to see Connor taking it upon himself to wipe down his workspace. Achilles always demanded a clean house, so the two younger assassins always make sure they left the kitchen immaculate.

Catherine stretched her arms over her head to relieve any tension she felt from sitting too long.

Catherine could hear the crackle of the fire in the hearth with the kettle hanging over it. In astonishment, Catherine had already seen Connor preparing the stew for her. The red-haired woman smiled and took a knife from the counter. I walked towards the rabbit meat and began to slice the meat from the bone. With her back to Connor, she could hear the chopping of the vegetables. Once the work was finishing between the two, the stew was boiling over the open fire in the hearth.

Using her skirt to wipe any residue off her hands. "We should let that sit for the next hour or so before it will be ready."

Crossing her arms over her chest in satisfaction of dinner being done in time for the setting sun. She turned around to catch a glance of the native staring at her with contentment.

She raised an eyebrow with a puzzlement stare. "Connor?" Her Irish brogue broke his thoughts. He only blinked realizing he was staring at the red hair lass. "Is everything okay?" Catherine inquired.

The native assassin shook his head, "I was just watching you."

"Why?"

"I was intrigued watching you work." Catherine could swear she saw his bronzed skin flushed with pink.

Catherine chuckled and walked up to him, he was acting bashful for watching her. A bear of a man who can take down a dozen men in one blow was shy when it came to a blooming romance.

She gently touched his cheek with a blissful smile and pressed her soft lips against his cheek. His cheek pluses with warmth against her winter chapped lips.

"Your such a bashful man, Connor." Catherine giggled, she went to step away to the other room, but Connor reached over to grab her wrist. Before she could get a word in, he pressed his lips onto hers causing her to giggle.

They waited for the food to finish cooking, Catherine and Connor spent the time talking. He mostly allowed her to speak about the novel she was reading, a lighter topic then the thought of war. When supper was ready, Catherine served both her and Connor. They ate the meal with a continuous conversation with muffled laughter once, or twice. The native was explaining his tale from his childhood with friends.

Catherine could only watch as he spoke of such fond memories from his time in the village. She rested her hands underneath her chin as she spoke. "I really would like to come back to visit your village when it's not under business." She replied after he finished his tale.

"Why don't we make a planned trip then." He suggested, "You are more than welcome in my village."

"I'd love that." She reached out to take his callous hands into hers. His dark eyes mirrored into her glazed brown ones, they froze that moment. Until a loud thunderclap almost shook the house.

"Dear Mary Mother of Joseph, where did this storm come from?" Catherine took a glance out of the window to see the violent dark skies.

Just under an hour ago the skies were a dull grey that looked like normal snow clouds. The way the wind was blowing looked as the storm was coming from the sea.

"At least we weren't planning on going anywhere," Connor replied.

"What about the horses?" Catherine replied, "Remember the last storm? Peg escaped because the thunder spooked her." She went into the other room to pull on her boots and coat by the door.

Connor followed suit with a coat to keep him warm. They stepped into the freezing air, a mixture of hail and water fell down upon them. Catherine and Connor as they hurried towards the stables. They checked to make sure the stalls were locked and secured. Catherine petted the snout of the horse as she whiny after another thunderclap.

Catherine took a step back to start back towards the house when she slipped on a sheet of ice.

A woman with the training of an assassin slipped on the ice causing her to fall into a puddle of freezing rain, soaking her skirt and legs.

"Co-Connor!" Catherine cried out in shock of the cold.

Connor ran in a slight jog over the young woman, she didn't need to plead for him to help. Instead of helping her onto her feet, he scooped her up in a bridal fashion.

"Connor put me down. I just needed help." She began to shiver as the fabric of her skirts clung to her legs.

He took no time in marching back to the house where Catherine's teeth began to chatter from the cold. Connor' s warmth helped little due to his shirt being soaked through from the rainfall. Taking no time, he took her to her room upstairs. With her still begrudging about him not putting her down.

He sat her on the chair near the fireplace, he helped her remove the cloak that clung about her shoulders. Catherine slowly removed her boots, she felt a blanket drop across her shoulders. Another sound of a thunderclap.

"Are you okay?"

"Aye, the fall just surprised me."She frowned a little at him. Catherine paid no mind to the sound as she looked upon Connor's soaked shirt. "You're about as wet as me!"

Connor glanced down at himself before peeling the wet shirt off. His toned colored chest was in clear view. The firelight glowed onto his dark skin, defining his features. A shadow cast over half of Catherine's face, causing her to feel the warmth on her skin. There was nothing but silence beside the crackling from the hearth. Catherine warmed her hands by the fire as she cast her gaze away. She could feel his warm mahogany eyes staring down onto her.

She reached down behind her head to let her hair down. She felt her hair breaking loose from the confines of its binding. Her fiery red hair cascaded down to her shoulders. Using her wooden comb from the night side table, she brushed it with the teeth of the comb.

Connor laid his shirt near the fireplace to allow his shirt to dry next to Catherine's boots. Connor kneeled next to the chair as he poked the fire. The house grew quiet again with the only sound of the thunderstorm. His hand rested softly against the arm of the chair. The way Catherine slouched in her chair she could stare at the back of his head. His lovely dark brown locks in fingers reach. Like her hand had a mind of its own. Her fingers lightly touched his hair, feeling the strands, it was nothing like her own hair. It was rough and coarse.

Connor was caught off guard by this single touch only for him to reach out to grab her hand gently. Both of his hands clutched them, kissing her hand.

Catherine smiled as he kissed her knuckle. she ducked her head to kiss his lips again. He smiled against the kiss touching her cheek. She pressed her forehead against his taking a break from the kiss. Her head felt dizzy from the kiss and smiled. A funny feeling ran up from her stomach that made her wobble. She stood from her spot, keeping a tight grip on him.

A passionate kiss was shared between them. Connor pressed Catherine close to her chest and her arms wrapped about his neck.

A fire filled their passion that they have experienced a small handful of times. Never following through with it. The echo of her mother's voice was growing quieter of the importance of virtue before marriage.

The kiss broke and they only locked eye contact for a moment before making the decision to act on their desires. Taking no time, Connor stepped away from the blushing woman as he slowly shut the door. She acted quickly to pull the strings of her bodice. Her fingers quivered as she worked at the strings, feeling as nervousness overcame her. She watched Connor come back over and planted a kiss back on her lips.

The storm died down as hours passed, Catherine curled under the heavy brown quilt with Connor. Her legs entangled around his, Catherine felt content. She had been told how it would be a painful experience at first. They were right of course but failed to mention that it would be blissful.

The young lass can still remember some of the high noblewomen of Versaille were so open about the discussion of such topics. It surprised the young Irish lass so much that she backslashes her wine in surprise. They began to tease her on how the English were prudes, ignoring the fact she was Irish.

Connor ran his hand down her back, feeling her light fabric chemis. It was made of fine material, he could only assume that she may have bought it while in France.

She sleepy closed her eyes as she breathed in and out. The fire had gone out in the room, but neither cared. The warmth between the both of them was overwhelming. Connor was first to fall asleep from exhaustion. Catherine fell behind not too far away. She didn't dream, it was just darkness.

Something awakes her from her light sleep. It was a feeling. Something was wrong.

Catherine sat up slowly from bed to see the fire had completely gone out. It had clearly been hours since she had fallen asleep.

A feeling overtook her, it was the same as she felt when she had first experienced the touch of the precursor box. Her senses were high, as a loud high pitch whistle. The whispers heighten like there was a sign of trouble, but it was something different. She didn't understand why. Pulling away from Connor's warm body.

Why was it always the dead of night when something happened? She could count more then on her hand about something happening.

Grabbing a pair of pants drabbed over her desk, she slipped them on. She only took a moment glance at Connor who was sleeping so peaceful that she decided not to wake him. The young assassin stepped out of the room careful not to wake Connor. Hearing the whispers in her ear, overcoming her sense. She grabbed her pistol from her desk.

She didn't want to wake anyone in case it was nothing. Her bare feet on the wooden floors shivered, the floors felt like they were made of ice. She tipped toe through the house with her weapon at the ready until she got into the hall. There was a sound coming from Connor's room. In a dream-like state, she pushed the door open with a soft pressure to see nothing. Catherine scanned around the room to take a second look when something made her blood run cold. Her blood ran cold as ice from the aberration that was in front of her.

She could not breathe at the sight of the lucent figure. floating images of her father appeared in front of her, a much younger version of him. He was rummaging through the nightstand. He stopped what he was doing and turned around to face her. Gripping a book tight to his chest.

"Catherine."

Catherine awoke with a deepened gasp, sweat dripped down the side of her neck. Taking a moment to catch her breath only to happen to notice it was early morning with the light shining through the window. She looked over to see Connor's side to meet his warm kind eyes. He was using his elbow as support to watch her.

"Are you okay?" He addressed her seeing her expression from awaking in such a state.

"It was another dream." Catherine pushed her hair back not thinking too much of it. "I don't want to talk about it." It was another dream of her father, it was something simple, but it shook her to the very core.

Catherine laid there for a moment her eyes shut tight. She opened one eye open as she saw Connor sliding out of bed, she turned away for a moment to give him some privacy. Neither of them spoke as she listened to Connor get dress.

"Do you think Achilles expects anything?" Catherine asked as she lightly brushed her hair away from her eyes. Wanting to avoid the subject of her dream.

Connor paused for a moment while he was lacing his breeches. "I don't think so."

"You better get to your room than before the old man realizes what we were up to last night." Catherine grinned. Connor ducked across the bed to give her a quick peck. She watched him scattered out of the room with his shirt and shoes in hand back to his room.

Laying in bed to allow her mind to sink in what had transpired from the previous night. She could only think about how she had acted on such instinct. The red hair lass wondered why the church had cast out an act that was natural to be sinful. She could probably hear her mother in the back of her head thinking of her as a god-fearing woman. Good on her part, she would never have to tell anybody their little secret.

Pinning her hair up and away from her face, she pulled it back into a long braid. The braided hair swung across her back as she walked out of the room, dressed in a pair of trousers. Her top was a button-up white shirt with her dark blue waistcoat. Her leather boots tapped against the wooden floor as she walked. The laces tighten her boots right below the knee. The young assassin had decided to go for a ride later on in the day to check on the other Homestead residents. She wanted to see if any needed a helping hand.

Catherine walked down to breakfast to the kitchen to see Achilles already sipping his morning tea. Connor was at the table eating a bowl of porridge with what looked like a small layer of maple syrup. Connor had always had a sweet tooth with his breakfast every once and awhile. Norris had introduced a simple recipe for them to make it.

Catherine had taken a place across from Connor to eat her breakfast. The morning kitchen was quiet besides the scraping against wooden bowls and the light tick of the Grandfather clock from the other room. it seemed everyone was having a quiet morning until Achilles spoke up.

"I hope you two have had a pleasant night last night, did you have any nightly activities?"

Connor stopped midway as he was bringing the spoon to his mouth while Catherine froze. She dead-eyed stared into her bowl of oat porridge.

Achilles could only give a quiet expression as he saw the two young assassins' faces were priceless. "Don't think because I am an old that I don't know what goes on in my own house, children." He picked up his cane. "I do ask that you'd be cautious because I am getting too old to be dealing with more Cormac's and Kenway's. No matter how small they are."

He left the room just Catherine dropped her spoon feeling mortified. Her face was pulsing with blood causing her face to turn very pink. She cupped her face in embarrassment with both hands trying to shield her bashful expression. Connor covered his mouth, trying to ponder on what to say about what the old man had said to the two assassins. Catherine cleared her throat as she quickly stood up.

"I think I am going to head outside for some fresh air." Catherine pushed back her bowl of breakfast, losing her appetite due to sheer embarrassment.

Connor agreed too taking a step back from his breakfast, "I will be downstairs." He cleared his throat as he stood from his spot.

Both of their faces glowing red as they stepped from the kitchen into opposite ends of the house. Catherine could hear Connor head downstairs to the cellar as she stepped out the front door.

Orla starred down with her needy eyes passing judgment onto her mistress. She cried out before spreading her wings to lift into the air.

A frown pressed across her lips,"shoo off you wicked bird." Catherine stated as she walked towards the stables. She walked towards a brown mare, the one that she had secured last night. she reached out her hand to stroke Peg's long snout giving light snort in agreement. She grabbed the gear to ready to tack the horse after giving the mare a quick brush.

"The storm last night gave ya scare, didn't it?" The horse stamped its foot as an answer, "I know, but it's all better now."

Once the mare was ready, Catherine took the reins she swung her leg over the horse's backside into the saddle. She lightly tapped the side of the mare who started in a light trot.

From inside the manor, Connor could see outside the double pane windows. He had watched the woman he had cared about. He watched how her red braid bounced against her back. He placed his hand on the window seal as he watched her ride off down the path.

The native had a small smile as he watched her go. He stepped away from the window and walked towards the cellar where they stored their plans and sparred. When the native came to the base of the stairs he looked at the paintings hanging on the wall. He stared at the paintings upon the wall. He saw the painting of William Johnson's painting crossed off with white paint. Connor's neat handwriting had made a note regarding Johnson's plan. The writing had said, "For own good". It was starting that it was for the Native's own good that the Templar's would buy the land only to protect the natives.

In fear of miss-use, Catherine had spent her last year in France in raising funds into buying his people's land to protect them. His people's land was safe, but he couldn't help to feel guilty about killing Johnson was the right path. He had shared his thoughts with Catherine, who shared his own thoughts.

No matter what the regret was, what was done was done. The next thing to do is to stop Pitcairn. Should he succeed in his plot, the colonists will be unable to maintain their resistance and the Templars would control the land. It was Catherine and Connor's duty to find him, he needed to die to prevent such an action.

He could hear Achilles steps walk up beside him. "I thought it might bring clarity killing him, but all I feel is regret. Catherine shares the same sentiment."

Achilles only patted his shoulder, "I imagine so, I hope for the both of you hold fast onto that feeling. Such sacrifices do not come so easily. From the outside, it had seemed Johnson was doing the right thing."

"I had to do it." Connor cut cold. He could remember back to that day.

When he was looking over Johnson's Hall, he had watched Catherine pled with the natives and Johnson regarding the matter. She was fierce and had not to back down from the matter. He had actually believed she could handle this by herself. It was until he had heard the order to fire upon the natives and to shoot Catherine on sight. Watching her being surrounded by Johnsons' soldiers, he leaped from the rooftops and killed the Templar Knight on the spot.

"Not just for my people, but for all the people who Johnson could have harmed." Connor continued his thought.

Achilles nodded in agreement, "I have to say it is a start. Though to truly be rid of all of the Templar's influence, they must all be dealt with in turn." He landed his eyes on Haytham Kenway's portrait. He paused for a moment before looking upon his pupil. "I do have to ask Connor, do you think it is wise to carry on with Catherine?"

Connor raised his thick eyebrow in question. "What?"

"As I stated before, I don't think it's wise that you two are so... close. Aren't you worried that this might distract you both from your goals?"

Connor frowned, but he ignored Achilles. "My only concern is ending the templars."

"Don't let such emotions cloud your judgment, it can affect your judgment. Don't forget, you will need to kill your father."

"I know," Connor snapped as he turned away from Achilles.

"You speak the words, but are they true? Do you believe them?"

They were silent for a moment before they heard the front door open. Connor looked confused.

"Catherine wasn't supposed to be back until later, I thought." Achilles said

"I thought so too."

"Connor?" Catherine called out as she stepped towards the top of the stairs. "We have a visitor, come up!" Connor glanced at Achilles before walking upstairs with Achilles. Catherine was standing near the door waiting for the two.

A man at the door with a letter in hand looked to be a messenger. He held out an envelope. "I was supposed to deliver this to Master Connor and Mistress Cormac." Achilles took the letter from the man and opened it.

He was glancing over it, Connor raised an eyebrow. " What is it?"

Catherine took the letter from Achilles to read it over herself. "It says that we have been requested by Samuel Adams and Paul Revere. It seems the RedCoats in Boston are up to something."

"It looks like it's not just for Catherine, but you as well, Connor. You have made a real impression on the Sons of Liberty."

"They mistake me as one of their own," Connor said as he glanced at Catherine. "You should go by yourself, Catherine." He then turned to the messenger, "Please tell them that they have my sympathies, but I cannot help at this present."

Catherine's eyes widened at the letter and grabbed Connor's assassin coat. "Connor, you may want to come with me in regards to this. Pitcairn is mentioned in this letter by name."

Connor threw a glance at the messenger man who looked relieved. "Mister's Revere house in Boston, if you like I can take you both-" Connor stormed passed him quickly in rush towards the stables.

"Thank you, but please ride ahead to inform Master Revere we will be on our way shortly. I know where his house is." Catherine said as she stirred past the man towards Connor. Her stomach was in knots from the news of John Pitcairn after months of waiting. She could tell Connor was anxious as Catherine felt.

She ran up to Connor and grabbed his hand as he was about to tack and ready Sock to take to Boston. Peg was already in her tack and saddle. "We will get him, I promise." She squeezed his hand tightly.

She can sense the change in the air, there was going to be heavy repercussions in the next few days. Catherine just did not know what it would be.

Connor pulled his hand away from her in a hurry. A flash of determination passed through his eyes.

Years ago, Catherine had set her sight on revenge when she was part of the Boston Massacre. She wanted to bring an end to the Templar Order after she had thought that her mother had died in the massacre. Her anger had lessened from when she learned that her mother was still alive, but it didn't change her mind regarding the Templars. Especially when it was Charles Lee, he had tried to have her murder by locking her in the warehouse that was caught ablaze.

Connor had lost more than she did though, they threatened the peace of his village and killed his mother. Her mind was not swayed about the revelation from Haytham, trying to claim that Lee did not burn the native's village. She understood the anger he felt as he watched his mother die within the flames. Catherine had thought her own mother had died.

"Let's go find this bastard," Catherine said.

Connor climbed onto his horse after he finished tacking his horse. "Agreed." They raced off towards Boston in hopes to stop the Templars. This day was the last day of peace for a long time for both of them.


	13. Catherine's Midnight Ride

Hey Guys! I just finished writing well over 6000 words! How about that?! Well, I hope you enjoy, I might not post for a while since I leave for Spain in about 2 weeks and I have to stuff to do by then! Please don't forget to Follow and Review!

-Moon

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Tightening her grip on the reins as the two assassins rode side by side allowing the horse to take a fast trot. They spent the last hour riding the horses at a fast gallop, giving them intermediate breaks. Catherine knew it would be early evening before the two assassins arrived in Boston. Golden rays of the sun were already casting its glow upon the landscape. There was no less than an hour left of the natural light.

Quietude stilled in the pine woods with the only the music of the frontier. The clip-clop of the horses' hooves disturbed the natural peace of the woods. The Irish Assassin kept her thoughts to herself while stealing the occasional glances. She could see the deepened look on Connor's face. His eyes sparked a determination that she has seen many times before. No one was going to stand in Connor's way when it came to his targets. Much like a starved wolf when it came to their prey.

Catherine felt her spine prickle with uncertainty as she clenched her jaw tightly. Pitcairn was not going to be an easy target much like Johnson's assassination. Though she did not compare the Master Templar's death as an easy one, it had fewer variables. A whole army stood between the Assassin and Pitcairn.

"We should be there soon," Catherine spoke, breaking the silence. If she was quiet for another moment, she was going burst with anticipation of their arrival. "Do you have a plan, Connor? I doubt there will be much room to trying to reason with Pitcairn."

Her mind festered with the memories of her pleads with William Johnson. She can still feel those words on the tip of her tongue.

"What do you know of him, or at least remember of him?" Connor asked.

Catherine paused for a moment, trying to rack her memory of the Templar. She did remember the portrait back in the cellar, but not the man. After a moment of deliberation, a brief memory snapped in her mind.

"I do, I only met him once when I was a small lass," Catherine said, "As you know, I spent time in New York. I had met his son Robert Pitcairn, he was a few years older than myself. " Catherine pressed with the story. "I only saw him though, he was starked in his British livery. He gestured me a friendly smile and polite hello like anyone would with a small child. The way I heard he was described is that he is a good man in a bad cause.."

Connor looked over to her. "You sound like you almost admire the man."

She shook her head no, "I don't, It's just what I know."

Another moment of silence passed over until Connor picked up the conversation.

The Native glanced at Catherine. "Did I tell you that Pitcairn was not present when the Templars attacked my village?"

"No, but does that make him any less of a threat?" Catherine asked. "Neither, was your father. Yet, he did give the order." She still remembered meeting with Haytham in Philadelphia in the tavern. He had proclaimed that it was Colonel George Washington that lead the attack on Connor's tribe. The Grandmaster was shifting blame onto someone else. Catherine knew it, but there was something that was nagging her about it. He looked so honest when he had told her this.

Connor shook his head, "I was just wondering to see what you thought of the man since you have had ties with them."

Catherine snapped her head to Connor, heaving the horses' reins causing Peg to come to an abrupt stop. The native's horse came to a complete stop.

Her bronze hair fell behind her shoulder as she turned her horse to face him. Not knowing why this comment bothered her so much, she spoke. "They are not my ties, they are my father's."

Connor felt agonizing guilt, realizing what he just said. "Catherine, I know." He said as he realized how it sounded. "I apologize for what I said." His eyes showered with an apologetic nature as he glanced as his partner. From the reflection of the sun, his dark eyes glowed light honey. That was her favorite part about his looks was his chestnut eyes.

There was a regret lashing out at him. All she could remember was the time she spent in Paris. The fact of her parentage was hidden well from over half of the brotherhood. There were occasions when it slipped through the cracks. It caused her to be compared to her father and whispers of her ties to the templars. A child of the cross, though nothing ever came of the rumors nor, was treated differently. There was just a distance with some. Charles Dorian never once treated her differently. Neither did Sophie Trent, they all held her in high regard to her status as an assassin. Even the novices held her in high regard. She sometimes missed the other students.

"I am sorry for snapping," Catherine said as she let her eyes soften. "It's a sour story for me thinking of the past with templars and my father…"

Catherine hadn't stopped thinking of the man she called father. Having not seen or heard from the man in close to 4 years, it put a toll on her. For good reason too, Shay thought his only child was dead. She had doubts that he even knew she was still alive because of how much Haytham wanted her gone.

She did miss her father as much as she missed her mother. There were times that she couldn't help but long for them to all be together in the little tavern. She imagined Snowdrop with a warm fire and laughter that filled the air. She had even imagined the idea of Connor being there. Just all the people she cared about in the room. Wouldn't that be a sight? Catherine thought meekly.

Feeling a hand clapped over her leather gloves, she glanced at Connor. He had covered the short distance bt leaning over and touching her hand. Their horses only stood a foot apart. "I know you miss him...the same way I miss my mother. I see it on your face sometimes when Shay is brought up."

"It's more than that, Connor." She squeezed his hand. "I sometimes long for things that could never be."

Connor listened as Catherine spoke. "I wish my mother was back by side, my father here. I want a family, my family to come back. I hate the Templars but it does not change the fact of how I feel about my father. "

"What if you found your mother?" Connor asked, "maybe you can convince your father to step back from being one?"

Catherine felt her eyes wield with warm tears. "How?" Her voice cracked. "I looked everywhere Connor, what if she is really dead? Died somewhere alone?" Catherine had heard nothing but silence regarding the location of her mother. "What if Haytham, or one of the templars stricken her dead? I don't think I can through that pain when I know I only have hope of her being alive."

Catherine drew in a breath to keep her emotions in check. During her years from any tears to be formed. She pulled away from her hand from Connor, "I'm sorry. We should go."

The Irish Assassin used the reins of her horse to turn the horse. Connor didn't get another word in as she pushed the horse to ride off ahead of him.

Neither of them spoke another word until they arrived in Boston. The entrance to the neck of Boston was guarded, but they were able to slip in without too much attention. They were able to store the horses not far from Paul Rever's house.

Catherine made sure her hood was pulled securely over her face. She did not want anyone to recognize her in the Boston Commonwealth. She stuffed her braid into her hood as she walked alongside Connor. It was falling out of its loops of braids, she cursed herself for never being able to keep it pulled it back.

He allowed her to take charge of their destination since she knew the streets of Boston better than him. They avoided the sight of any red coat patrol. There was heighten patrol on streets, something. There is a heighten edge and alertness in the air.

Orla flew above the two hooded assassins, her wings cast a shadow from the glow of the moon. Catherine crossed over to the next roof with no effort. Connor followed her close behind only stopping when she stopped in her tracks. There was Paul Revere's house just across the street.

Before two assassins could climb down, a platoon of guards was marching by. Catherine and Connor took cover behind a chimney to avoid being caught from the site. Connor withdrew the knife from his belt to ready for attack. Catherine's brown eyes laid onto Connor's newer blade. A faint feeling of happiness filled her stomach, a few weeks ago for Connor's birthday.

Big Dave, the local blacksmith at the homestead. Had managed to work a beautiful knife with ore that Norris had mined. She was grateful for the help from the homesteaders, she had no earthly idea on what to get the man. He was obviously not expecting such a gift from Catherine. She even engraved the wooden handle with his name, his real name. Ratonhnhaké ton. She had worried she had spelled his name wrong. There was no official written language for Mohawk.

Catherine had gifted it to him on the night of his birthday. They were huddled by a campfire in the woods. When Catherine handed him the clothed package when he unwrapped it. He 0saw it was long hunters knife. It was a useful object to have on her person for hunting and combat. He felt so touched by the gift Catherine had given to him. It was touching as well as useful.

The native stood silent waiting to see if the red coat patrol will pass. Catherine sheathed her hidden blade with a pop. A sigh passed her lips when the last of the red coats passed by. Connor followed suit. The bronze hair girl climbed down the side of the building and ran across the street. She felt Connor's presence behind her as she stood in front of Paul Revere's door. Before Catherine could knock, Connor reached behind her and forced the door. It announced their arrival at the tenets inside the home. Connor was a looming presence that pushed past her

Catherine stride in after the Mohawk assassin. There was voices that could be heard in the house. Following the noises, they found three men by a table, two of them sitting while one of them was pouring a pot of tea. The man holding the porcelain teapot looked up from his guest and looked at them in surprise.

"Oh, Connor! You came!" He looked past and glanced at Catherine, "I see you brought a friend to help us." He smiled at Catherine who only nodded.

"Call me Catherine,"

"Oh a lady friend, I see," Paul Rever cleared his throat, he and the two other men look puzzled and uneasy at this thought. He shook his head and cleared the idea at this thought. He walked up towards Connor to take him by the elbow who did not seem pleased about being touched by a man he did not know. "Let me introduce you to William Dawes and Robert Newman." The native jerked his arm away from the silversmith.

Catherine could not know how she would describe this man, but there is was nonsense about him. She could remember the descriptive letter that Connor had sent her. It held a detailed story about the night of the Boston Tea Party. He had thoroughly described the man that was standing in front of her. The way he had echoed the words "lady friend" made her irritated at the sight of this man.

Connor strolled forward, ignoring the men. "The letter that was sent to us said John Pitcairn was here."

"The letter sounded urgent, so why don't you tell us what is going on?"

Paul Revere walked past Connor, shutting the door behind the two Assassins. "Aye," The Silversmith confirmed. "As we speak, he is readying an assault upon Lexington, where Adams and Hancock have taken shelter. Once they are apprehended by Pitcairn, he will move onto Concorde to seek after our supplies. He hopes to destroy them." He walked around the room explaining the situation with an attempt to pled for Connor's help. "You must help us."

"Only tell us where to find him and we can put a stop to this."

Catherine shook her head at Connor's brashness, "It's not going to be that easy Connor, he will have troops at his command. Our only luck might be a full-frontal assault to get to him."

Never before Catherine has faced a battle on the field for actual war. In her life, she has taken on more than one man, but never got to the point where to was a full-on battle. War was upon the American Colonies.

"She's right Connor. The man has more than hundreds of soldiers at his command, we do not hope to match him. You cannot hope to match him by yourself." He held up his hand in inspiration. "Fear not though, you will not face him alone. We have an entire army at our hands. They are just waiting for the order to pick up arms against the British."

The Minutemen is what he was referring too. Catherine had heard from James that he had been working closely with Samuel Adams. Himself and others were starting to put together a well supply militia. It sounds like he had succeeded in his venture. She wondered if James was going to be there. He had spent so much time with Adams it seemed likely. She wished her long time friend was safe.

"Then call upon them then." Connor was getting irritated with the Silversmith every second that past.

"Indeed! You and I will cross the Charles River and rouse the men." He explained his well-thought plan. "William, I need you to take the overland route and do the same." He glanced at Dawes as he was sipping on the rest of his tea. He then turned his gaze onto the other man to give out more instruction. "Robert, I need you up in Christ Church. Light the signal… one by land, two by sea if our enemies come that way." He walked both the men to the door as he gave instruction. Finally, his gaze landed on Catherine. "You are an unexpected factor, my dear, but you came at the right moment. I need you to head to Lexington right away to warn Hancock and Adams, inform them of our arrival. No one would suspect a woman this late in the evening up suspicious. They will be at Clark's house in Lexington, Revereane Jonas Clark. It's a two-story home right on the edge of Lexington."

Catherine frowned at her task, "But I want to come with you." Her eyes turned into two angry slits.

"It would be too dangerous and peril for a woman."

She gritted her teeth and was about to bark back but Connor stopped her. "It might be best for you to head straight to Lexington to warn them ahead of us. We don't want to draw much attention with more than one rider."

Catherine shot Connor a look, this surprised her. He had not spoken up against the discrimination of her gender, but it was different this time. She felt a bit hurt at that, but she huffed. "Fine, but I am not doing it because I am a lady." She gave a side-eye glare to Paul Revere who looked ready to leave. "I will see you in Lexington, be careful Connor." She stormed past him, not letting Connor speak after her.

Storming out onto the street fixing the collar of her shirt. Catherine was heading back to where they stored their horses. Her hair became disheveled as she walked angrily down the cobble street. The bronze hair fell out of the rest of the braid.

In her haste of anger, she had shoved the payment of the stable of her horse and Connor's. The young stable lad winced at the sight of the furious young woman. She riding up to the gates of the Boston Neck. There she saw the face of William Dawes. He glanced at the young woman in a slight surprise. "Mistress Catherine," He called out. Catherine lost her irritated features.

"Master Dawes," Catherine said riding up alongside the man. Both of their horses were at an equal steady pace. Neither of them spoke of their missions in fear of being overheard. As they approached the gate to the Neck.

"Let me do the talking, lass." His thick accent spoke to her. "The security is getting tight. There is talk about the gate going to close not allowing anyone to leave Boston." Catherine glanced at the man, he was riding on an old worn saddle on a nag. Dawes wore old tatter clothes that resembled a farmer. He looked harmless as a fly from a casual observer. Catherine, on the other hand, stood out against him, as long as she kept her head down and quiet, she could pass as male. Her hood was menacing and suspicious. She made sure her coat was covering her chest. Wrapping the reins tightly around her knuckles, she waited until they were approached.

"Halt," One of the soldiers called out.

Dawes gave a small smile, "Good evening, lads, my son and I are heading to my sister's place."

The guards glanced at each other then glanced at Catherine, but she kept her head bent lower. After a moment, they study the two for a moment before deciding that the two could pass through. Dawes tipped his hat in a kind gesture as both of their horses easily exited the gate. As they rode away they could see a messenger riding up to the guard with orders to close the gate.

"It was like luck has been on our side," Dawes said.

Catherine shook her head, "It's more than luck, I have to go."

There was no going back she thought as she looked upon the locking of the wooden gates."

"A piece of advice, I ken you to help." He looked upon the young woman's face. "Get yourself a good guise. You won't drag as much attention as an armed young man than an armed young woman." He left in the opposite direction of the young woman down the path.

The Irish Assassin rode hard down the path with the suggestion struck her mind. She had seen the looks of that she was ever given when she had walked into a boys meeting. It was quiet when she had entered the room at the Continental Congress. She just ignored them at the time, but with the dismissal of Paul Rever, it angered her. Her blood still boiled from the thought. She had her horse walking at a steady pace as she was riding through the different settlements. It was not a half-bad idea she thought. She rode by a barn that had clothesline hanging clothes to dry. Pulling the reins to stop her horse getting the idea of what she needed to do.

Starting down the path, Catherine moved to feel her chest feeling constricted. Under her clothes were uncomfortable bindings wrapped around her upper torso. She wore an extra shirt underneath to hide any sight of the mounds on her chest. She ran a finger through her shorten hair, she had cut a few inches from it with her dagger. Her red locks went from mid-back up to her shoulders. She had taken a ribbon and tied it tightly that felt as if she was pulling her face back. It did not change her appearance drastically. If someone were to take a double glance at her, they would call her a pretty boy. She had to use a reflection of glass to see herself. With her hair pulled tightly out of her face, she shared a strange resemblance to her father. She traced the faded scar across her face to see it more prominent than before without her hair hiding it. Once she was satisfied, she was back on her horse and on her way.

Her horse canter down the road with a decent speed. The ground was muddy from the last of the snow melting from the late spring. It wasn't uncommon to see snow around this time of year, even though there were very few patches of snow. The air was frigid that held a lingering smell of fresh pines. The moon glowed off her back as she rode the horse, it cast a shadow of her and the horse.

Catherine was positive she was heading down the right direction. thankfully she had not run into any red coat patrols quite yet. The Assassin kept her wits about in case she did spot something about.

Peg's ears perk at the sound of steps ahead. The horse made a nickering sound as they came to a crossroads. She could have sworn she saw a faint silhouette in the shadow she could hardly see. She peered through the glow of the moon to see it was another rider. In her stomach, she wondered whether this was another rider on the road or another patrol out on the night. Dawes' warning had echoed through her mind about British soldiers. They would be out on the roads wanting to question anyone that seemed suspicious.

The rider turned their horse towards the young woman. The moonlight gleamed off a metal gorget. A piece of décor that British officers wore with their uniform. A gody piece of jewelry in her opinion. The uniform practically glowed in the dark because of bright the dye of the wool. She pulled her reins backward warry of the officer. She stiffened at the sound of another hoof print. Out of the pines of the woods, another British Officer came stampeding to her.

"I believe this is one of the men we are looking for."

Catherine cursed herself, she had just ridden herself into a possible ambush. The Officer she had ridden upon already had his flintlock pistol aimed at her.

"Halt sir, in the name of the King."

Catherine noted how quickly her disguised had been paying off. No one could possibly question her as a woman, though it was probably credit due to the darkness of the night.

She quickly raised her hidden blade at the man and dart flew out of the confidence of the gauntlet. The man did not have a chance to recover as Catherine pulled her horse into a gallop, darting down the path head-on. The other Red Coat was caught off guard by Catherine's quick reaction.

Once the two Officers gained their bearings they road after the Assassin.

The hoofbeats of her pursuers were growing loud behind her, but she called for Peg to go faster. She tried to reach under her assassin robes, she aimed it behind her to fire at the Red Coats. She missed, but it was a wild aim. She cursed under her lips as she rode faster, Peg was average for a horse who was running low on stamina.

Catherine would have to outmaneuver these men, if not she would have to stand and fight. She rather not since she had no personal quarrel with these men. She used her weight to turn the horse into the woods. The Assassin knew this would cause a quiet a detour towards Lexington, but there was no other wait. Peg gave a loud whinny from the sudden turn of direction but obeyed her mistress as they took a climb up a steep. Into the woods, her horse galloped like a wild stallion. Out of her pocket, she had decided to use only in an emergency was a smoke grenade. While in Paris, she had learned a thing or two about bomb-making. She had learned the chemistry make up of the ingredients of this bomb. It was an old recipe based out China from the recipe of fireworks.

She yanked the cork out and threw it on the ground hard causing a flash to erupt. Both men were engulfed in a puff a grey smoke covered their senses. That spooked one of the Officer's horses. Catherine knew it would allow her a head start. Blindly ridding, avoiding trees and branches, ducking to avoid any oncoming objects. Using her thighs ti grip onto the horses' side to prevent from being thrown out of the saddle. Peg lept, covering air and sticking her landing with a slight thud.

She could only worry about Connor and his endeavor. The Assassin hoped that her partner was not caught by any patrol. She rode hard and heavy for the next few moments in peace until she heard the thundering sound of hooves. She glanced behind her shoulder to see three more men after her. She cursed again and wonder where they came from. It appeared Pitcairn was clever enough to produce an order to not only patrol the roads but the woods as well.

She cursed herself, she had reached for the second gun at her belt withdrawing it and taking aim, she fired again. This time, she hit one of the soldiers in the shoulder causing him to fall off his steed. One of the men fired back at her, but she was able to avoid the flying ball. She threw all her weight to turn her horse down a hillside. The horse slide it's hooves as it skidded down the slope of, the men followed behind her.

"Stop it! We will fire again and you will be a dead man!" One of them cried out as Catherine reached the base of the steep. It was empty threats all that the Assassin had heard.

When the animal hit the bottom caused her horse to take off running again. Holding the reins tightly, her horse kept charging. She knew that her horse did not have much left in her. She saw ahead was clearing where she saw the woods opened up and a clear path to the main road. She decided that another charge into the woods, she would have to retreat into the trees. Where she could take out the men in the cover of darkness in her true element of an Assassin. Hunching herself in a position, she was about to perform a maneuver she had only done herself a number of times.

Connor had brandished the trick back at the Homestead, this was during the first summer. At her first attempt, she almost knocked her own teeth out and knocked the wind out of herself as she fell onto her back. Nevertheless, she persisted throughout the day. Until she managed to grab onto a lower branch, pulling herself into the tree.

Her hood fell off her head at the speed her horse was riding, her short ponytail rode in the wind with her black ribbon. From the corner of her eye, she could see Orla gliding through the air with her wings fully spread.

She had followed her mistress all the way from Boston, ready for command at a second notice. Hoping for another distraction, she pressed her lips together to blow a hard whistle. She had made the motion a second time to act as a command. Swooping down, Orla's large wingspan blocked one of the Soldiers from the view of her mistress. Being attacked from such a large bird, the man fell from his horse crying out from the surprise. Her beak pricked at the man with her claws digging into the man's scalp and pulling at the base of his hair.

Hard press towards the woods, she glowered in the directions of the woods. Thinking it was time for an escape until six new horsemen sprung from the darkness of the pines. Their pistols and muskets aimed at the Irish Assassin. Catherine pulled the reins hard, attempting to turn her mare with a harsh shift of weight. Unlike before, it was too much of a short notice from, her horse reared on its hind legs.

Using her legs muscles, she glued herself to the saddle. The horse landed back onto her all fours while the soldiers started to gain ground towards her,

"Last time lad! Dismount, disarm yourself!" Amongst these new patrolmen, one spoke that wore an Officers coat. He wore a powder wig underneath his tricorne. He placed his pistol back into his holster as he approached the young woman. "Where did you come from, and you better answer honestly."

Catherine kept a narrow eye at the Officer, she couldn't tell his rank by his uniform. She never kept such things. "Boston." She answered in a short gruff voice, hiding the sound of her higher feminine voice.

"What time did you leave?"

"Shortly after you lot closed the gates," answering again with her low gruff voice.

The Officer looked awfully surprised at the fact this person had escaped quartine. General Gates, the Military Governor of Boston, had made explicit orders to bar anyone from leaving. It was imperative that no one knew of the plans that the British Army had for Lexington. There were strict orders to contain anyone outside on the roads within the county.

"Sir, may I have your name, if you're so kindly."

Catherine bit the inside of her lip, she had to think of something. "Jack," She blurted, the first name came to her mind. Her voice sounded a bit higher then she wanted too.

"Jack what?"

"Jameson?" Catherine said almost like a question, it was more of a question to herself wither or not she wanted to go that route.

The men glanced around at each other, looking like did they not believe the disguised woman. "Well, Master Jameson." The Officer said with a tone of incredulity, "you have no need to be frightened of us. Even though, you did fire upon my men I do hope good sir that you were mistaken in the dark. You see lad, we are after some deserters on the road."

Catherine balked at the man, "You lie." She could hear the other patrolman approach her from behind. "I know you soldiers marching your way to Lexington under the command of Major John Pitcairn." Her middle finger tugged on the small ring that was attached to her hidden blade. She was going to deploy it at a moment's notice.

The Officer looked surprised at the notion that Catherine knew of this information. His facial expression gave away that sudden awareness. It was supposed to be a well-guarded secret. The British were marching towards Lexington. The Officer rode close to the Assassin, Catherine stared coldly with her dark eyes.

"How do you know this information?"

"Oh, I know a lot of things." She studied every inch of the man until there was something shining on his left hand. It was not a wedding band like she thought when she only glanced over it. She saw that it was a silver ring with an angry red cross in the middle. So, that's who she was dealing with. She smugly thought it was obviously one of the lower ranks of the Templar Order.

"A lot," Catherine stated

"Well, if that is true lad, then you better hand over disarm and let go of those reins."

Catherine furrowed her eyebrows at the man until she heard several clicks behind her. Out of the side of her vision, she saw that while she was talking to this Templar Officer. They had her surrounded. Catherine had one hand on the reins while she was back into under an old oak tree. The height of the tree that towered over the Assassin and British soldiers.

"Fine," Catherine said as she threw the reins In that split moment. No one blinked as she launched herself off the horse into the tree's grabbing the lower branches. As she went for a jump, one of the lower-ranking officers fire upon her. It missed by the inch of Catherine, but it landed in the shoulder of her steed. Peg let out a loud whine in pain, Catherine felt sickened by the sound of the power animal's cries for help. The mare fell onto her side and cried and tossed about.

"Someone put that damn animal out, fire at that man! For god sake, don't kill him though, I want him for questioning." The Officer growled at, "Aim for his legs!"

Catherine climbed higher into the tree, much like a raccoon that scurried along its branches. Aas she reached for a branch, it exploded in bits of wood and splinters from a flying musket ball.

It was a harder maneuver in the trees to escape the fire of the British. She needed the right angle to make her mark. Swinging onto the next branch, she spotted one of the soldiers onto the side that it would be an easy escape. Springing her hidden blade to life, she made her leap. Soaring through the air much like an eagle with talons. Landing on the man like a cougar, she stabbed him in the neck.

The Red Coat gurgled on his own blood, it was an astonishing move that no one saw. They froze in their saddles, even the minor official Templar.

As the Templar gained back his nerve. "I know what you are now."

"Oh, so you do learn!" Catherine said with a repressed smile filed with scars am. "I thought you were some dimwitted following sheep." The man went to withdraw his sword not taking another chance. "I will give you one chance, walk away. If you do so, you and your men will get to live."

Her hidden blade glimmered in the moonlight with drips of blood from the dead man's blood. "You can tell Major Pitcairn that he won't be offered the same transgression though."

"Here I thought all Assassins were dead, even going as far as killing a whore of a woman who attempted to rise it again." Catherine gritted her teeth as he listened to him insult her. "Stupid girl, shouldn't get in the ways of the Templars. A war such as this is not a woman's game."

She decided that she was going to kill the man. "Well, No one ever told me that," Catherine said reverting voice back to a higher range.

The man's eyes widen at her voice going up an octave, "Wait." It dawned on him. "You, you're the bloody Cormac whore. You are supposed to be dead." He rode closer to the woman in disguise. "Though, no wonder I couldn't recognize you, make such a young pretty lad."

"I don't know if I should be insulted, or not."

"It matters not, I shall rise through the rankings when I bring you as a prisoner for the Grandmaster. The idea of bringing your lifeless body sounds easier, but I rather not disgrace my honor at killing a lady."

"Then I shall kill you before either of that happens." She slowly moved her fingers to her gauntlet, she pulled back the small bow strang to load a dart. In the harsh darkness and from the height of her horse.

Acting first, she fired a loaded dart from her gauntlet hitting a man on the left of the Templar.

Catherine sprung into battle from the back of her horse. It was a matter of slice and dice, she cut down those men like straws of grass. Fire and furry was brought down on the red coats. Anger struck through her at the very idea of being looked down upon as a useless doll.

With a hard strike of her blade, she cut down the Templars across the chest. His white shirt bleeds through, causing him to fall to his knees. He shuttered with death appearing in his future.

"Y-you girl is playing a very dangerous game."

"I am playing war, I know how to play it unlike others. It's a simple rule, you win, or you die. I can play this like a game of chess." With the last thrust of her blade, she slashed the blade across the Templar's neck.

Catherine took a step back from the dead Templar. The Chaos had stopped and the remains of it sunk into the soil. Droplets of blood stained the tips of her coat and face. Looking back onto her horse, who was heavily breathing. A pity filled her stomach as she saw the wild eyes.

"I am sorry, Peg." She murmured as she dropped down to the eye level of the creature. She rubbed it's snout one last time before grabbing a loaded pistol. A loud gunshot followed by a loud cry.

Grabbing her saddlebags from the horse, she moved over to a bay who was less skittish of the other horses. Climbing onto the horse, after securing her saddlebag. She left the bloody battlefield towards Lexington. The sky was turning into a distant pink of the rising sun. How much time did she waste on running from these Red Coats, she thought. She only hoped to see Connor safe once she arrived.


	14. Battles

**OH BOY! I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG! I went to Spain, got sick, came home, went into quartine, went back to work, got fired, and struggled with writing. This world has gone crazy and I am sooooooooo sorry. Please enjoy and review! **

**-Moon**

* * *

Standing outside the home, Connor waited patiently for Catherine. He couldn't figure out why she wasn't there yet. To his left, James stood with a firm expression that his eyes read he was worried as well.

"I thought you said you had her ride ahead." James exclaimed, "why did you let her go by herself?"

"I thought she would come straight here," Connor said, he looked unsure and worried.

James watched the fields from a distance until he saw a rider approached. He gritted his teeth when he didn't see it as her. "If she is not here before soon, I will go out to find her."

The native looked out the distance towards the cornfields. The rider was riding a different horse then Catherine, but the man was wearing Catherine's coat. The rider stopped their horse in front of the two men.

"Sorry I am late," The person spoke as they took their hat off. Catherine could smile at her companions.

Both James and Connor were in awe at the sight of Catherine's new look. Her short hair had been pulled into a low ponytail. She was able to hide her figure in layers of clothes.

"Jesus, Catherine where have you been?" James asked as he watched her climb off her horse, there were splats of blood dotting across her shirt and coat.

"Ran into some trouble," She stated as she tied her horse next to Connor's near the house. "Damn red coats templar shot my horse."

Connor crossed the yard to come to the woman, "you look so different."

"Well, after you left me, I had the idea of not being left out, I thought I go in disguised." James glanced both at Catherine and Connor, she had shot Connor a look of disapproval. The town was beginning to buzz with the edge of battle. Milta men marched to the edge of town towards the green fields.

"It's close to time," Catherine said deeply in a drastic tone

. The three glanced at each other, never before had any of them ever been in close contact battle in a war setting.

It still being early in the morning, with dawn breaking the skyline a pinkish touch. From beyond the horizon towards the edge of town. There were signs of red specks dotting the landscape moving towards Lexington.

She gripped the inside of her palm. "Pitcairn is amongst those men, we will have to figure out a way to get past enemy lines to reach him." Catherine spoked as she walked alongside James.

"We have to report to John Parker. He will be leading the men. James walked along the path towards the fields. The men were divided into two ranks, there had been no more than 80 men ready at the arm. Muskets were being passed out amongst the minutemen. Catherine realized that this was nowhere near enough to face the British. Catherine study the man, there were fierce glares towards their opponents. Behind her, spectators watched from inside their homes behind shutters and curtains. There was a fear in the pit of the assassin's stomach. She prayed that there were no civilian casualties. Memories of the Boston Massacre was an event that she would never forget. She prayed no one would lose a loved one, or a friend, feel the pain she once had in the past.

"Here," James placed a musket into her hands, "You might need this."

Catherine eyed the musket before taking it. In just a short few years ago that she had feared such a weapon. Now, with intense training, she was able to overcome it with the help of Charles Dorian and Connor.

"Thanks," the assassin hung the strap of the weapon onto her shoulder.

"Before we go any further, is everything okay? Between you and Connor?"

"Aye, we just had a small disagreement last night, so that's why I did this." She said as she watched Connor walk ahead of her, speaking in a low whisper. "Some of the men had disagreed with me helping with alerting the troops, so I was supposed to ride ahead."

"Connor is your friend, I am sure, he did not mean any harm with it."

Catherine gritted her teeth in her mouth, she had not told James of her relationship with the native. Because of his own feelings for her, The two men had gotten over their distrust of each other and became eventual associates towards the same goal. They had a good relationship and she did not want to ruin it. Only the person that knew about her and Connor was Achilles. She still knew of James still had feelings for her.

"I know, it's nothing, don't worry about it, James." Catherine patted her old friend on the shoulder.

Connor stopped turned to look at them both, "Are you coming?"

"Aye, Connor," Catherine said as she waved at him passing him.

As Catherine moved up the path towards the Lexington Green, no one noticed her like they normally do. Being a woman dressed in breaks, or trousers were frowned upon on. Her mother, Rose, actually encouraged it when she turned 12 when she saw how hard Catherine would play. The mother was tired of sewing the bottom of Catherine's dresses. She had been played harder since the moment she had met James in the harbor when they were children.

A rasping cough claimed the attention of the young woman towards a man who took charge. He held a handkerchief to his mouth as he spoke, "Stand your ground, men!" He barked the order, "Don't fire unless fired upon! If they mean to have a war, let it start here." His words had an ominous meaning to it.

James walked past Catherine to take a position with one of the men that single him over. He packed his gun for the first shot. Gripping the musket, she stood alongside the men loading her own.

Watching the Red Coats lined up in neat rows like pawns on a chessboard, Connor pointed past Catherine towards a figure on a horse. The rider was towards the rear of the ranks of soldiers. He was dressed in a British officer uniform. "Pitcairn," Connor growled close to her earshot.

She held up her musket, trying to take aim towards the Templar. Trying to line up a shot, there was no possible way to assassinate him with it.

"He will die today," Catherine gave Connor a side-eye look.

"We have to get to him first." James called out to the two assassins, "Good luck,"

"You too," Connor nodded to him.

A demanding voice broke across the fields. "Disperse, you damned rebels!" The booming Scottish voice held high authority. It could only be Pitcairn, "Lay down your arms and leave!"

No one moved forward to do such an order, "I said disperse!" he looked upon his men, "Do not fire!"

Orders were repeated through the ranks of the soldiers, it seemed that the British were not eager to start a battle with the patriots either. Panic and tension covered both sides of the battlefield, that orders were being filled and mixed in the air causing mass confusion.

Catherine aimed towards the British, ready to fiddle with the trigger. The standoff was getting intense, she looked along the side of the minutemen. She noticed a figure that was on the edge of the field away from the troops. A man dressed in black holding a pistol in the air. The sense of the past crawled down Catherine's spine as the sound of a shot exploding from the man's pistol. Chaos exploded between the two troops.

The British began to fire upon the Minutemen, in a sheer number of the fire, men began to retreat from the green. Catherine yanks down to her position behind a stone wall. Parker shouted for the men to hold their position.

Gripping her gun, she fired her one shot hitting a British soldier square in the chest.

"What are you all doing? Hold your positions!" Connor had grabbed John Parker pulling behind the trees with James following. Catherine used a tree as a cover, "traitors! Cowards!"

"They are not returning, you will have to make do for those who have stayed!" Catherine said as she reloaded her gun. She stuffed and packed the gunpowder.

John Parker turned and glared at her, he took in her look, not a second glance. "Boy, don't you dare lecture me on how-" He was cut off in his sentence to see that the British had ceased firing upon the rebels. "RETURN FIRE, RETURN FIRE!"

Catherine's arms were shaking as she took aim again alongside James, her stomach was in knots in her stomach with unrelenting anxiety. Blood pounded in her ears as the world seems to sedate itself. Nothing else seemed to matter as she fired after one shot after another. She gritted her teeth, "Get a grip on yourself, Cormac," the assassin whispered to herself. She pushed herself against a tree. Moments of the 14-year-old girl back in Boston when she witnessed her mother being gunned down and the fired shots of the soldiers. All those moments flooded her brain, but now was not the time to think about itit.

Closing her eyes tight, "Your mother is alive," she wasn't sure if the words echoed to herself, or if she spoke them out loud. Catherine glanced at Connor and John Parker over the conversation.

"You must show this to whoever leads in Concord." He passed a letter under his coat to Connor to take. "Should be a man by the name of James Barrett. Go quickly now, we will try to hold the lines here!"

Catherine backed away from Connor, "I'll come with you to see if any help is needed." she followed Connor beyond the trees towards the road. She

Spectators of the town were leaving buildings and running from their houses and stores in fear of retribution of the British. Connor speed-walked with Catherine to the nearest free horses. Climbing on the saddle they raced down the path.

"Come on! We got to meet with the others in Concord!" James shouted racing past Catherine and Connor, "I will see you both there!

the British troops are advancing further quickly. In the midst of smoke and gunfire, Catherine rode blindly down the road towards Concord. Using her horse to move out of the way to dodge the path of the civilians and Minutemen. Catherine dare not turn around to see the British troops firing upon the men and women who were fleeing to safety.

Catherine gritted her teeth watching the brutality, "I can't believe this happening again."

"It's going to be alright," Connor said, "I know how you are feeling," He looked over towards her. "We will get through this day."

She gripped the reins tightly as they rode past the civilians. What seemed like the longest ride of her life, she arrived in Concord keeping pace with Connor.

* * *

Shay gritted his teeth in anger as he wiped his gloved hand of any blood against the dark fabric of his coat. The man's blood had drained from his veins in his neck down the Templar's hidden blade. One of the annoying parts of having such a secretive weapon. In the dead of night, he had killed a man that held information that now seemed useless. He was running in damn circles for the last four years.

He sulked in the open streets of Quebec, not wanting to take the rooftops again due to the snow-covered roofs. The years of training had begun to break for the older Templar, Shay was not the young man who he used to be.

The years had been hard on him, physical and through the soul.

He dared not to think of his daughter, he had snapped when the man who held information about the box mocked him. Called him a failure of a father, allowing his own child to become a victim of the Templars. He gained no information from his target as his own hidden blade injected into the man's neck. He left the corpse to be found in a shed near the backside of the targets home.

The only person who knew where the box was dead, Catherine.

Even in her own death, he couldn't help but praise her as he thought about her wide smile. Her honey-colored eyes glowed with happiness like they did when she was a small child. He stopped in his tracks to take a breath as he leaned against a house. A whirled wind of emotions caught into his throat. He stroked his face hard while feeling the rough stubble, it had been a while since he had last shaved.

He pushed his emotions down to the back of his throat, it would be sunrise soon. He could see the pink touches in the sky, there were people already leaving their houses to start the day.

It was still a walk towards the docks where his ship was anchored. Pushing off the house, he left down the cobbled streets. He ignored the sounds of french conversation, they were normal talks of the day. Nothing that was worth listening into.

A voice spoke out that caught his ear, it was like honey laced with a beautiful Irish accent. One he had not heard in years. The Captain turned his head towards a woman in her mid 40's dressed in men's clothing lined with fur. Her long copper hair pulled back into braid hang down the mid of her back. Her once rich bronze hair held strains of grey which only added to her beauty of age.

The lights of the sun hit her head in a halo-like she was the Virgin Mary herself.

"Rose," Shay's voice broke through her mid-conversation.

From the portion of her face that he saw, her emerald green eyes widen in surprise from hearing her name called. Turning her head slowly to the man she had called her husband for so many years, astonishment broke across her face as she saw Shay.

Advancing to take a step to the left to leave in a run, but Shay was faster, he had grabbed a hold of her wrist before she could leave him.

"How?" Shay's voice broke over a whisper. "How is it that you're here?"

Rose stood quiet, stunned that he had found her.

The Irishman did not know whether to embrace and kiss his long lost wife out of joyfulness to her see alive again or to strike her with anger.

It had been years last seen his wife, his lovely Irish Rose. He reached out to touch her cheek, she didn't flinch, or did she accept it warmly. She stood their just stroking it.

"Shay, what are you doing here?" She asked after what was like an eon, she pulled his hand away from her face.

"What I am doing here? What are you doing here? What are doing here in Canada?" Shay asked. "I thought you were dead, Catherine thought you were dead."

It occurred to Shay, he struck out and grabbed his wife's arm tightly. "Why are you here? Why were not at home with our daughter!?" He felt the feelings of happiness subsided with anger and grief. "Catherine is dead because she thought you were dead."

Rose stiffen as she felt his grip tighten on her arm. "I had to send her away to protect her."

"To Achilles?! To the Assassins, the same ones that tried to kill her when she was just a small child."

Using her quick reflection she twisted her arm out from under his and grabbed unto his wrist. Tugging him, she dragged him down a few houses.

The Templar was shocked at the jerk and sheer quickness of the small woman. She pulled him down the side alley and opened a door that was hidden from the view of the street. Rose pushed her husband into the building. She slammed the door and locked it behind them.

"I know what had happened, don't you dare bring Liam, or Hope up. I know what they did to my daughter."

"Our daughter! I thought we agreed to keep her out of this!" Rose almost screamed.

"I would of if Lee did not make her, or I target! Did you not know of that? Or did your unwavering loyalty to the Templars make you blind to that? You were there when she had her accident, why didn't you protect her?" Rose pushed her hair harshly behind her ears.

Shay watched her tensed position. She was not wrong in her statements. The two stood silently in the small living space. He glanced around the home to see there was only a bed with a fireplace, a desk with a chair with a small stack of papers.

"Why are you here, Shay?" Rose asked after what was like an eternity.

"I am looking for someone that has information that I need."

Rose tucked her hair behind her ear and looked back towards her husband. "What do you need?" She crossed her arms over chest,

"You want to help me?"

Rose flexed a small smile across her lips, "I still care about you." His eyes caught the sight of her wedding band on her left hand. "I can't afford you being around me right now, Shay. I am dealing with something of my own."

Shay nodded he went to open his mouth to ask her questions, but she held her hand up to stop him.

"I ask you to trust me just like I trusted you all those years ago with the Templars."

Years ago when Catherine was just a small baby, he could remember visiting his wife for the first time since his "death". After Rose got over her initial shock about her husband being alive. she was shocked to learn the truth about him working with the Templars, but he asked for her trust.

"Aye, I always will."

"Good, now tell me what you need."

Shay took a deep breath before he explained that he was looking for a man from Scotland with the information that he needed. He was unsure about how Rose would react about how he was still searching for the box. Rose stopped him mid-sentence, she knew what he was talking about.

"Is this about the precursor box?"

"Yes, the same one you hid in our home."

"I made a promise to keep it safe." She cut shortly, "That's not my priority anymore."

Shay could see Rose was starring at her feet before looking at him, "I am going to tell you something because it's unfair for you to be kept in the dark about this. The reason I am out here is to protect Catherine,"

Shay crooked his head towards his wife, "But she is…"

Rose shook her head. "No, she's not. She is healthy and safe away from all this and from what I know, she still thinks I am dead, so I hope she does not come looking for me."

A whirlwind of emotions circled through the man's head as he came to the realization he had a second chance with his daughter. "Where is she?"

"I will not say, she is safe with the Brotherhood in Europe."

"The brotherhood?! Are you crazy."

"She is safer there than here in the Colonies, must I remind you that your associates want her dead. Besides, she wanted to go from what I've been told, she's an adult, not a 14-year-old child."

"Where is she now?"

Rose was silent for a moment, "I don't know, an old associate of mine swept her away, I don't know where she is. She could be in England, France, Spain...She could be anywhere, but she is safe."

"As long as she doesn't come back to the colonies," Shay said, his heart soared at the imagining the sight of his daughter. He remembered the chaos that ensured the result of Azura's death. Hickey was angry, talked about how he wanted to return the favor to Catherine. Shay was grieving himself from the news of Catherine's demise. When the words of an insult left Hickey's mouth, Shay had thrown the Templar against the wall and landed a hard punch. Johnson had torn Shay off him and told him to calm down. He sternly told Hickey to be more sympathetic towards the loss of Shay's child.

He knew that from the next few days that there was a relief from the troubled situation, no one would have to deal with Catherine. No one had said it, but the death of Catherine brought peace amongst the Templars. Shay did not want to be around them after the funeral, so he left to continue his quest for the precursor box.

"I agree," Rose said. "Now about your man, tell me who are looking for."

Shay took a seat in her chair and began to explain.


	15. The Major

Hey guys!

Sorry for such a long wait, I've been working hard due and I have not had a chance to do much writing, I would make this longer, but Its been solo on, so I am leaving this chapter on a cliff hanger. Below this is actually based off an event that happened in History with Pitcairn. I've been reading Igniting the American Revolution: 1773 to 1775 by Derek W. Beck. I like the narrative of the book. I recommend it if your interested in the subject.

-Moon

* * *

Catherine stopped the horse behind the native Assassin. The fourteen-year-old boy climbed off the horse and dropped onto the ground.

She could hear a minor spat between Connor and Barrett.

"Boy, what are you doing here?"

"This man saved me, the British had arrested me, but he took him down like the devil himself!" The boy exclaimed as he pointed at Catherine as she pushed her hat past her eyes to hide her face more.

"I told you, boy, to stay with your mother to guard her and your sister."

"I know uncle, I did, but now I want to help."

Better judgment against them to argue with his young nephew, "You can help the minutemen help reload their weapons, god bless if your mother found out you were holding a weapon." He looked towards Connor. "Do you know this person, boy?"

"I do," Conor glancing at Catherine, "You can trust them."

Barrett scratched under his chin and glanced at Catherine, "I will need a messenger to help warn one of our allies who is hiding supplies for us. I just received a report that Pitcairn is leading a small troop to destroy it."

Connor glanced at Catherine, "I am going with you."

"No, I can handle this." Catherine said, "You need to stay here and help these men defending the bridge. We do not want the British to overrun them."

"Are you sure?" Connor asked he held a loose grip on her arm right below the shoulder.

The Assassin paused for a moment before looking at her significant other. "I am sure as you when you left me in Boston." She took his hand off her arm before walking back to her horse.

Taken aback from her statement, the Native could only stare with unsure eyes. James, who had reached the old North Bridge, he had overheard the sound of Catherine and Connor's small disagreement. Snatching the reins from a man who was holding her horse, Catherine swung her leg over the saddle, wrapping the hard leather of the reins around her knuckles. Adjusting her hood while on the back of the horse, "Where do I need to go?" She asked Barrett.

"The Jones Tavern, you can circle back into town and cut off the British before they arrived." He instructed the assassin, "Godspeed,"

Catherine nodded before kicking the inside thigh of her horse before the animal took off, burrowing down the path. Connor watched her back as he saw her riding animal away from the small barricade. James approached Connor with his musket slung over his shoulder.

"Is everything alright, mate?" James asked, "What is going on?"

"Nothing," Connor said with a solemn face.

"The Regulars are coming!"

Clasping his hands behind his back in stoic fashion, "You better be in line to take command of my men, boy."

With one glance he gave James a single request, "Will you aid me, James?" Connor asked.

"Of course," James said, walking over to stand by him. "As long as you stand by her."

-Assassin-

Arriving upon the tavern, she could hear gunfire from a distance. Not losing her nerve, she approached without looking back upon the fields of battle. Trying to block her mind of the men dying for the cause of rebellion. In her stride, she climbed off the horse and with fast as her legs could carry her; she came to the tavern door where it swung open with a man holding a musket at her face.

"We are closed, can't see there is a war going on!"

"Aye, James Barrett had me come warn ya oncoming troops who are seeking out supplies and weapons for us. A man by the name of Pitcairn is leading them to dispose of the stash."

The man eyed her oddly before pulling his gun back, "Jones will want to hear this, we are in the middle of stashing it. Come in,"

"Rony, what is taking you, man?" A voice called out, "We need to finish hiding this stash."

"I have someone who was sent here by Barrett," The man who had greeted her with a gun, she assumed he was Rony. "I have a boy here who can help us, but I don't know how much the lad help will with his scrawny ass."

Catherine bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from outlasting. Rony let the assassin in to face an older man who was overlooking three other men who were carrying barrels of gunpowder. She assumed the one overlooking the operation was Jones; he glanced over at the pair of them. His eyes landed on Rony before switching them over to Catherine, who's eyes were narrowing.

"The reason he's scrawny is that he is a she."

The men stopped in their sted to glance at their extra guest, Catherine looked bewildered as looked in shock, "How?" She dropped her fake voice.

"I have three daughters and I am the oldest of five sisters. I've been married for 15 years with my wife, I know what a woman looks like, the way you hold yourself."

Catherine pushed her hood down, taking off her hat, "You must think I am foolish for this,"

"Nah," He waved his hand, "To see a woman armed with a sword and pistols, I assumed she would know how to use them." There was a glint of humor in his eyes as he looked over her with admiration.

"Tell me how I can help?" Catherine asked.

"How fast can you dig a hole?" A man shouted, asked.

"Depends, do you have a spare shovel?" Catherine asked as she took off her coat and weapons.

After pulling a netting covered with leaves, she assisted with hiding the last of hiding the cannons. Her sleeves were rolled up with her weapons placed inside of the tavern while she worked. No one would notice the obscured pile of leaves unless they were looking hard enough on Jones' property. The flour mill that was not too far was already raided for the weapons and supplies, the Miller sent his son as a dispatch.

"Catherine!" Ronnie shouted for the Assassin, "The British are here, get your tail inside and help us barricade in."

Knowing that the tavern and the local volunteers did not have much combat experience, entrapping themselves inside of the tavern. In a swift moment, she ran inside the tavern. Over the sound of gunfire, there was a sound of thundering hooves down the path of the tavern, Catherine packed her pistol with a single shot, praying that she could hit the Pitcairn with one hit. Standing by the window, she pulled the current back to see a small garrison of men. Never meeting the main before, she could pick the Templar Knight out. Major John Pitcairn dressed in full British regalia, the bright red of his military attire matched his men like it matched the Union Jack.

She hoped that this man did not recognize her, or was aware of who she was. Though, in her current state, covered in dirt with short hair pulled back like a boy. She wasn't afraid of the face of the Templars knowing she was alive because Haytham knew, which meant the other Templars more than likely knew. She had to hide under the noses of the Templars.

The Major climbed off his own horse; he walked towards the tavern with much grace as expected from His Majesty's officers. There was a sudden pounding on the wooden door that shook the frame.

"Open the door in the name of His Majesty, King George."

There was an air of unrest in the men that Catherine felt. This was not the first time she had been in a rough situation where she been surrounded. Her mind made her think of the time when she was in Paris as a simple novice in the first six months of her training, where she had to assassinate a target that was a corrupted constable. They had trapped her inside a room after the killing man. His cronies had swarmed to outside the room, blocking any exit for the woman.

IN defiance, no one answered the Major. There was a just hard glare from the men.

"I ask again, open the door for the Crown." In a moment like a switch, Major Pitcairn, he cursed with an abusive language towards the door. "You will open the door under my orders, or we will light your tavern flames and force you out."

Jones turned to look at the other men inside than with Catherine. She could see the instant of fear across the Tavern keepers face, none of them were train men to handle a fight. That would be a mistake to allow the tavern to be set ablaze. Not just for Master Jones to lose his living wage, but they had planted hidden gun powder under the floorboards of the tavern. It caused an explosion, causing the supplies to be lost and the building with everyone inside.

"Open the door," Jones said looking towards Catherine, "I don't want those soldiers to end up killing us. We have the supplies hidden."

Catherine chewed her lower lip, "If you believe that is what it must be done, but I have a personal vindictive against the Major out there. If I take out this man, I might lead them away from the tavern after me."

"Are you mad, lass?"

"Just a bit, but I can only hope for a bit of luck."

The young assassin nodded in agreement as she pushed the furniture out of the way, placing her hand on the lock.

Jones said, "Hold, we are letting you in."

Catherine yanked back the sliding lock and hid behind the door, ready for it to barge open. In a fluid motion, the door barged open with a tramped of solider marching in followed behind Major Pitcairn. Holding her stance, she was waiting for a moment to attack. Her years of training felt as a memory of the muscle. It was a simple relaxation that thousands of assassins before her trained to do.

"Captain, I want you take some men around the property to make sure there are no contrabands. I want operations underway before Lieutenant Colonel Smith arrives."

Catherine launched her from her hiding spot in the corner like an animal. Her fist swinging first, hitting her mark on the Major's jaw. Her hidden blade became unsheathed from its hidden compartment under her sleeve. She was ready to kill until a hand reached out to grasp her wrist before she could make the killing blow.

Turning her head, there was a tall British soldier wearing a kilt behind her. He was a brute of a man that had tight grip ahold of her. The grenadier clung her against his own body; the brute was powerful. A set of soldiers had scrambled to help Major Pitcairn to his feet. Catherine struggled against her captors' grip, she sheathed her hidden blade in the process.

The Major looked stunned that a colonist had outright attacked him. The punishment of such an attack would normally be the result of hanging till death. The Major touched his lower lip to feel blood. The colonist in front of him had busted his lip. Never had he encounter someone so bold.

"Who are you boy?" He demanded.

Jones became bugged eye at fear, "He's just a boy whose emotions are strong right now."

Catherine glanced at Jones, who was pleading for her life. He had seen her weapons in the corner, stuffed away from sight. She cursed herself for disarming herself to assist with the stashing of supplies.

John Pitcairn looked over at the assassin, "Do I know you?" He darted down at her from the tip of his nose.

The disguised woman cut her eyes sharply into a glare onto the man, "No,"

"How Old Are You? You can't be more than 15"

This irked Catherine to be talked down like she saw a child, "You should mind yourself, I've been alive on this earth for 20 years and I've met men like you."

In an instance of interruption, two red coats walked in, "Sir, we may have found supplies outside around the barn."

Jones and the men inside the tavern became visibly nervous. If the Major decided it, they could all be put to death. Catherine tried to calculate which way it would sway.

Pitcairn gave a brief order to the men. "Take care of the supplies," The Major eyes study over her with much discontent before he looked at the men, "Make sure this lad has a seat." He gave a sharp look towards Jones, "and you, do you have prepared for breakfast?"

The revolting colonist in the room had a confused look on their face, "Yes," Jones swallowed

"Good, get two plates of breakfast for myself and the boy."

They forced Catherine to take a seat at a table where the Major had sat across from the assassin. She could see templar insignia ring as he took off his gloves. She tried not to linger too long on it.

Everyone's attention was taken off them as they gave Jones permission to leave the room to go to the kitchen. John sat across from her as she gripped her knees, feeling tense from the situation.

"Now tell me what an assassin is here?"

She heard a click from under the table and knew that John Pitcairn had a flintlock pistol pointed at her.


End file.
